Where Heroes Lie
by lindir's gaze
Summary: Quinn Fleming never expected to become a warrior of any kind, or to find a family in this strange new world. But now the stakes are higher than they've ever been before, and she will have to fight with everything she has to save the people she loves. [SEQUEL to Playing the Hero]
1. Memories

**Chapter 1: Memories**

"_What do you mean there's more dragons?_"

Quinn immediately clamped her mouth shut as her outburst echoed down into the small valley below. The lands to the south of Angmar weren't exactly crawling with monsters, but it still wasn't a great idea to be announcing her location.

Next to her, Dírhael the ranger gave her a dry look. "We've encountered all sorts of foul creatures in this land, and it is the drake that surprises you?"

"Well, I thought there was only one," she replied, careful to keep her voice closer to a whisper. "I mean, those bull things I could handle, the giant wolves I could handle, but dragons just seem a little too OP for them to be just anywhere. I mean, I was there when Smaug attacked Lake-town, and that motherfucker was _huge_."

"Are you two actually watching the pass, or just shouting for all the orcs in Nan Amlug to hear?"

They turned as their other two companions emerged from the brush. Lóni, the dwarf who had spoken, lifted his axe to rest upon his shoulder. Next to him, Ash aimed an arrow at a movement in the brush, but it was only a wild animal.

Dírhael made a small, displeased noise in the back of his throat. "The pass is clear." He turned to go, gesturing for the rest of them to follow.

Quinn figured the ranger wasn't exactly thrilled about their mismatched crew—a wandering dwarf, a woodsman from a nearby town that was pretty okay with a bow, and...herself.

She'd gotten much better with her sword, and was pretty handy with a few other weapons thanks to her friends back in Erebor. Sixty years of wandering and fighting and getting into weird bullshit had done wonders for her survival skills, even if she was technically dead.

Of course, the others didn't know about that last part (it was just a real bitch to explain, so she tried to keep it under wraps). But she had a magic sword and kind of looked the part, and Dírhael hadn't really been in a position to turn down her help. The rangers in the area were pretty thinly scattered, and it turned out one man was not enough to deal with what he had called a "drake infestation."

Lóni fell into stride next to her as they moved through the brush. He kept stepping on leaves and other noisy things, apparently not caring about moving stealthily, and Dírhael kept shooting irritated looks back at him.

"So, you say you have experience fighting dragons?" he asked.

She thought back to her fight with Smaug, which had mostly consisted of running, falling, and almost getting incinerated. "Yeah."

"Any advice for the rest of us?"

"Uh…" She turned as Ash raised his bow again. "Dude, you gotta cool it with that. There's nothing out there. I think Dírhael would have noticed it already."

The ranger cast another glare at Lóni's stomping boots, but said nothing.

"Anyway," she turned back to the dwarf. "I guess the main thing would be to find a weak spot. Dragonhide is too tough for normal weapons. And don't stand on the head."

"What, the _dragon's_ head?"

Up ahead, Dírhael held up a hand and whistled for them to be quiet, the sound blending in perfectly with the occasional chirping of the forest birds.

They'd reached the top of a slope that led down into a small basin. The light of the moon reflected off the large, pale stones scattered around the flat land at the bottom. At the center of the area was a reddish, scaly shape that could only be the dragon they'd been hunting. It was curled up and apparently sleeping, thin ribbons of smoke rising from its nostrils with every breath.

"Okay, it's actually not that big," she whispered. "I thought this one was gonna be like Smaug. This shouldn't be that bad."

Belekur appeared beside her, almost making her jump. Though no one else except the elves could see them, they sometimes faded from Quinn's view, and it always threw her off when they reappeared.

"The drake surrounds herself with her brood."

Quinn frowned, then looked closer at the area. She did a double take as she realized the rocks looked pretty scaly—and weren't rocks at all.

"Shit. There's more of them."

Dírhael turned to Ash. "Focus on the drake, but keep your distance. The rest of us will handle its spawn."

They started down the slope, careful not to wake the sleeping monsters below. Even Lóni seemed to be taking care to step lightly. When they reached the bottom, Dírhael gestured for them to take their positions, then drew his knife and rushed forward to take out the first dragon baby.

Lóni went right, Quinn went left, and Ash lined up his shot on the main dragon.

As she neared her target, she drew her sword. She felt a little bad about killing the thing, especially since it was sleeping. She stopped next to its curled up body and hesitated. The thing was just a baby. It even had a little bit of dragon drool coming from the corner of its mouth.

On the other side of the basin, Lóni brought his axe down with a Khuzdul battle cry. Dírhael let out an exasperated curse a second later, and then the area was thrown into chaos as the dragons woke up.

The beast next to Quinn roused, revealing a fiery red eye with a slitted pupil. Its mouth opened, revealing a set of sharp teeth covered in dragon drool.

"Dammit." She raised her sword and stabbed it into the monster's neck, releasing a spurt of hot, dark blood.

It collapsed, and Quinn pulled her sword out so she could deal with the next one. Lóni and Dírhael had both slain their targets, but that still left the main dragon and two more of its spawn.

The former raised its head to the sky and let out a deafening roar, shooting out a curling spout of flame. Ash released an arrow, which bounced off the dragon's throat.

Quinn exchanged a glance with Dírhael. He nodded in understanding, then charged with Lóni to finish off the smaller dragons. The main one followed their movements, and opened its mouth to deliver another burst of flame.

She raised her sword and charged. The monster was only about ten feet tall, and its scales were rough enough for her to get decent footing as she climbed up its back and landed just behind its head, her legs on either side of its neck. The dragon growled, the fire in its throat dying out.

_I honestly don't know what my plan was, here_. She looked around for something vulnerable to hit, but the dragon spun around with incredible speed, and she was forced to hang on to its ridged head to avoid flying off. It turned a few more times, trying to dislodge her, but she managed to stay seated.

Quinn raised her sword and drove it into the dragon's neck, but the blade only bounced off the tough hide. She flinched as an arrow flew past her head. "_Ash!_"

"Sorry!"

"Quinn, get down!" Dírhael shouted.

"In a minute!" She fumbled for the knife in her boot with her free hand. "God _dammit_." She finally drew it and jabbed it into the dragon's eye.

The monster roared, flailing its head and tearing the dagger from her grip. It straightened up and spread its wings. This motion, along with the thrashing head, was enough to finally throw her off balance.

"Shit!" Quinn fell head over heels off the dragon's back, and the last thing she saw was the ground rushing up to meet her.

* * *

"So I was unconscious for the rest of the fight, but the others managed to kill the dragon. And you'll never guess who got the final blow." Quinn leaned back in her chair. "Fucking Ash. After he almost shot me."

Bilbo took a sip from his teacup. "What possessed you to get up on the dragon's back in the first place?"

"You know, Bilbo, sometimes when you're out in the field, it's all about instincts and finding the right thing to climb on. And hey, it's not like I have to worry about mortal injury anyway."

He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his cup.

"Sorry." She'd come to realize her friends didn't care much for jokes about how dead she was. "Anyway, how are things going with you?"

"Oh, the same as they've always been." That was what he had said the last several times she had visited, but he seemed happy nonetheless.

It had still been really weird to see him age over the years, while she'd stayed the same. His hair was gray now, and wrinkles lined his face, but he still had the same sharp wit and kind smile as the hobbit she'd met all those years ago.

"Are you planning on slaying any more dragons anytime soon?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I've really just been playing it by ear. I'll probably stay in the north, though." Her deal with Saruman was still in the back of her mind, but she decided not to dwell on it.

"Well, if you're going to be in the area for a while longer, I was wondering if—"

The front door opened, and they both looked over to see who it was. Thorin walked into the sitting room, a basket of groceries in one hand. He nodded in greeting to Quinn.

"Did you get the strawberries, dear?" Bilbo asked.

"Of course." Thorin gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he passed.

The passage of time showed on his face as well, though Quinn had no doubt he could probably still beat someone in a bar fight if the situation called for it. Not that there was likely to be such a situation in the Shire. Living with Bilbo had brought out a more relaxed demeanor in the dwarf—he smiled more easily, and seemed to find Quinn a little less annoying.

A moment later, Thorin joined them in the living room, taking a seat in the armchair next to Bilbo's. "Have I missed anything?"

"Eh, I was just telling Bilbo about the time I got knocked out while fighting a dragon. So, not much."

He frowned slightly. "There are still drakes in the north?"

"They're way up near Angmar. And we killed a bunch of them, so I wouldn't worry too much."

Bilbo reached over and took his hand, and Thorin relaxed slightly. Quinn guessed he was still thinking like a ruler, even though he hadn't held the position for several years.

As if he'd read her mind, Thorin asked, "How are things in Erebor?"

"Pretty good." She smiled. "Fíli's doing great, as is everyone else. I think Balin and the others are still on that Moria expedition, but I haven't heard about that in a while."

"Nor have I," he said, the crease between his brows deepening slightly.

"Anyway," Bilbo said. "I was meaning to ask you if you'd be around this fall. I'm going to be turning one hundred and eleven, and Frodo will be turning thirty-three. We'll be throwing quite the party to celebrate the occasion."

"Hey, you know I wouldn't miss that for anything." She grinned, partially to cover up the fact that she was freaking out about his age. One hundred and eleven was fucking _old_—though the people of this world did tend to age a lot slower. "Your birthdays are in September, right?"

Bilbo nodded. "I'll add your name to the guest list—though, technically, there isn't one right now. I haven't sent out invitations yet, but I had to ask you since I didn't know when you'd visit again."

"Oh, I'll definitely be there. Can I bring my son?"

The two of them smiled and waited for her to say, "Just kidding!"

A minute passed before Bilbo said, "Pardon?"

"My...son." Quinn raised her eyebrows. "Did I not tell you guys about him?"

"Perhaps that word means something different in your world."

"I don't think so."

Thorin tilted his head slightly. "I wasn't aware that you could…"

"Oh, no." She held her hands up. "He's not mine. I mean, biologically. It's actually a pretty funny story."

* * *

"What do you think? Should we drop in on Sauron's old stomping ground?"

The dark bulk of Mirkwood stood low on the horizon. Although Quinn couldn't see Dol Guldur from where she was standing, being near the forest always brought back memories of that fateful day.

Belekur said nothing, but she didn't mind. Even after decades of spending almost every moment together, they still weren't anything close to what Quinn would call a friendship. But she figured they were never going to reach that point.

She had more pressing matters, anyway. The stretch of trees nearby had been echoing with a eerie, high-pitched sound for a while, and she was cautiously following it to its source. In all her travels, she'd never heard a sound like that before, and her mind was running through all sorts of creatures she would find within the trees. The small forest wasn't connected to Mirkwood, so whatever was happening couldn't be blamed on the general creepiness of that place.

"I swear, I am _done_ with ghosts for good." Quinn vaulted over a fallen tree and started up a steep slope. "If I ever see so much as a dude in a sheet, I am high-tailing it out of here."

As she passed under a rocky outcropping, the sound suddenly changed, and she realized it wasn't a ghost at all.

"You've got to be kidding me…"

Her pace quickened. If she could hear this baby crying from a hundred yards away, that meant any wolves or orcs or actual ghosts in the area could also hear it.

She found the source of the crying in a clearing at the top of the slope. It was lying in the middle of a patch of dirt, wrapped in a threadbare blanket and screaming its lungs out.

"Who the fuck just forgets their baby in the middle of the woods?" Quinn bent down and picked it up, then winced as the crying was brought closer to her ear. "Okay. Stop crying, baby." She tried rocking it, then changed her grip, but nothing seemed to work. She glanced at Belekur. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about infant care, would you?"

"It was left here to die," they said, their expression unreadable.

"What? No. Maybe in _your_ world, but..." She shifted her grip again, and realized the baby was pretty cold. "I'm guessing they probably just forgot." She tried rubbing its arms and legs to warm it up. "I mean, either way, they're shitty parents."

Quinn walked to the edge of the clearing and looked out over the fields beyond. A stream was visible about half a mile away, and next to it, she could see the low, lumpy shapes of a few buildings.

"I'm about to kick some doors down."

The walk to the small village was short, and in that time the baby finally stopped crying. Whether it was from exhaustion or not being alone anymore, Quinn couldn't tell.

Of the dozen buildings, only one of them had a light in the window. She couldn't see anyone on watch as she approached, and couldn't help but think these people were really unprepared for an orc attack.

She approached the lit building and, shifting the baby into the crook of one arm, knocked on the door. The wood rattled, and a tiny crack of light showed next to the frame as the latch nearly came loose.

"I didn't mean _actually_ kick any doors down," she muttered, then straightened as the door opened.

Upon seeing her, the old woman on the other side let out a strangled gasp and backed away. She stumbled slightly, almost knocking into the rickety table behind her.

"Woah, woah, calm down, lady." Quinn held out a hand. Sometimes she forgot that looking like a tall, scowling warrior didn't give a great first impression. _Please don't let this old woman have a heart attack on my watch_. "I just wanna know whose baby this is."

The woman glanced at the bundle in her arms, and her eyes filled with tears. "I told them they shouldn't have done it," she whispered. "That bad things would follow… But none of them would listen to me."

Quinn wondered if she counted as "bad things," then decided she didn't have time to figure that out. "Just tell me which house I'm supposed to return this to. That's all I want to know."

"Baldac and Raegwyn's house. T-Two buildings down, next to the well." She pointed in that direction with a bony, shaking finger. "That's where you'll find them."

"Thanks." Quinn turned to go, but since the old lady was still pretty shaken up, she added, "This is just a dream, by the way. Get back in your bed."

The woman nodded and shut the door, then shut it again when it just bounced back open. Quinn turned and followed her directions to the house by the well. She knocked more gently this time.

As she waited for someone to answer, she looked down at the baby's tiny, wrinkled face. She suppressed a laugh. It looked pretty funny, with its puffy eyes and slightly upturned nose.

A man, who she guessed was Baldac, opened the door and had a similar reaction to the old woman, nearly crying out and jumping away from the door. "W-What… Who are you?"

"The Ghost of Christmas Past, here to return your baby." Quinn bounced it slightly. "Next time, you might want to try keeping better track of it. Get one of those backpack things or something."

Baldac's face went white. "Please, we had no choice. I-If you're some sort of wraith—"

"Very close, actually." Quinn frowned. She thought the guy would have been happy to get his kid back. "Wait, what do you mean, you didn't have a choice? It's a baby. This thing's been screaming its head off for a while, so I don't see how you lost it."

"We have no food to spare. We'd thought it best to…" He backed up another step and shook his head. "The village has fallen on hard times. The lass would've done us no good."

Quinn looked down at the baby, then back at him, then back down at the baby. "So you're telling me," she tilted her head, "you left her in the woods on purpose. Because you couldn't feed her."

The man said nothing—he just stood there, shaking.

"Okay." She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, then back at Baldac. "I am officially confiscating your baby. Have a good night!"

When he continued to stare at her, she reached over to close the door, then began walking away.

"Don't say anything," Quinn said to Belekur. "I'll figure it out." She glanced down at the sleeping bundle in her arms. "We'll figure something out."

* * *

"And, uh...eight years later, here we are."

Thorin and Bilbo stared at her, both having gone through various stages of shock and outrage during her story. Bilbo finally sat back and took a sip of his tea. "You said that was going to be a funny story. That was _not_ funny."

"What happened next?" Thorin asked. "You...raised this child by yourself?"

"Well, not exactly. I actually had to go back to the village the next day and get some milk for the kid. I sometimes forget how other people need to eat and stuff. But after that, I went straight to Erebor so I could get some parenting advice." She smiled. "Dori practically confiscated my baby once I explained what happened."

"Dwarves, at least, know the value of a child," he said with a scowl.

Bilbo patted his hand, then asked, "And where is your son now?" He looked around the room, as though expecting an eight-year-old kid to be hiding somewhere.

"Oh, I left him with the rangers up north. Figured I wouldn't be a good mom if I was dragging him along to fight dragons. But I can definitely bring him down here for the party."

He nodded. "Of course. There will be plenty other children at the party, and I would be happy to meet your...son." He looked like he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

"Awesome." She grinned. "That reminds me, by the way. I went to visit Beorn a while back, and you wouldn't believe it, but he also has a son. But he named his Grimbeorn, which is just…" She made a face. "I had to try really hard not to say anything about that one. That would be like if you named Frodo 'Sad Bilbo.'"

"Quinn, for the last time, Frodo is not my son."

"But he looks like an exact combo of you and Thorin!"

Bilbo just shook his head in exasperation, though Thorin looked rather pleased at the thought.

As if their conversation had summoned him, Frodo walked through the front door and poked his head into the sitting room. "Hello, Quinn."

She lifted a hand in greeting. "Hey, Froyo."

He turned to his two uncles. "I'm going down to the fishing hole with Sam later. Do you want me to get anything from the market before I come back?"

"We're all right, lad," Thorin said. "I went earlier today."

"Don't stay out too late," Bilbo said, and had barely finished his sentence before Frodo was out the door again.

She smiled absently. When Bilbo had told her that he'd adopted one of his nephews, the name had rung a bell in the back of her mind, though she couldn't remember any details. It had been so long since she'd last been in her world that certain things had slipped from her memory—what her apartment looked like, the sound of her mom's voice, if she'd ever finished playing Dark Souls III.

"Quinn?" Bilbo's voice broke her from her thoughts. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat and nodded. "I was just thinking, you know—it's good to be back among friends."

**Fun fact! Urban Dictionary's definition for "froyo" includes "Frodo playing yoyo"**

**Anyways, welcome to the second installment of this series. I hope you'll all enjoy where I'm taking this story. The title of this fic is based on the song by Luca Turilli and it's a banger, I highly recommend :) If you'd like me to continue this fic, let me know in the comments!**


	2. Peace and Love

**Chapter 2: Peace and Love**

When her horse finally crested the top of the hill, Quinn let out a low whistle. The field below was dotted with tents and tables full of food, all of it illuminated by lanterns that were strung from trees and posts holding up fluttering streamers. More hobbits than she could count were milling about, looking like colorful ants. Even from the top of the hill, she could smell the roasted meat, fresh fruit, and ale.

"Wow. Bilbo wasn't kidding when he said he went all out."

A pair of skinny arms wrapped around her waist. "Are we there yet?"

"Just about, kiddo." Quinn turned to glance at the boy sitting behind her in the saddle. Toven was looking at her with a slight crease in his brow. "What's wrong?"

"What if they don't like me?" he asked. "What if they think I'm…"

"Hey, none of that." She patted his hand. "You're gonna be fine. All the hobbit boys cut their hair short too, so you'll fit right in."

"I'm not short like a hobbit."

"That's what we call a tactical advantage in my business." Quinn flicked the reins, and the horse began walking again. "If anyone says anything mean to you, I give you full permission to punch 'em in the face."

Toven snorted at that, but remained silent for the rest of the ride.

When they reached the edge of the field, Quinn climbed off the horse and helped Toven down. She tied her mount's lead to a nearby fence, with enough slack that it could walk around a little. After a moment's consideration, she left her sword strapped to the saddle. Bilbo had assured her that there wouldn't be any need for it in Hobbiton, but she felt better having it nearby.

She turned to Toven. "Ready?"

He nodded, still frowning slightly.

She patted his shoulder as they began walking towards the party. "Just play it cool, and don't take anything you wouldn't dish out. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And if you're cool, I'll let you have some ale."

Toven looked up at her, eyebrows raising. "Really?"

"_Just_ a sip. And you're probably gonna hate the taste anyway, but you keep asking me, so…" She glanced at him, eyes narrowing. "The rangers didn't give you any, did they?"

"No…"

"Okay. Just remember, you're only allowed to get alcohol from mom."

She sighed. There were times she worried she was missing out, leaving him with rangers while she went on her missions. But he always seemed happy to see her when she came back, so she tried to focus on that.

Juggling parenting and being an ancient warrior was a lot harder than she'd thought.

As they drew closer to the party, Quinn suppressed a groan as the smell of fresh bread drifted over the grass. Being dead meant she couldn't eat anything, but she swore she could feel her stomach rumbling.

Bilbo and Thorin were standing near one of the tents, talking to a group of hobbits, though the group had walked away by the time Quinn and Toven reached them.

"Hey, guys." Quinn nodded to Bilbo. "Happy birthday."

"Quinn! I'm glad to see you could make it." His gaze fell to Toven, who was standing slightly behind her. "And who's this?"

"Oh, yeah. Remember how I told you I had a kid?" She put a hand on his shoulder and nudged him towards the pair. "This is my son, Toven."

Still looking slightly nervous, Toven straightened and said, "Well met, Master Hobbit."

Bilbo blinked at him for a moment. "Oh, I see. It's a pleasure to meet you." He smiled and held out a hand. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"Yeah, we're trying something new," Quinn said, one hand still on Toven's shoulder. "Dori helped him pick out the name."

Thorin inclined his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, young Master Toven."

Quinn smiled. "This is Thorin, former king of Erebor."

Toven's eyes widened. He stared at him for a long moment, then whispered, "Hi."

Quinn leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "You're kind of his hero."

Thorin smiled at that, and Bilbo chuckled as Toven went red.

"Alright, we're gonna go find some food," Quinn said, noticing another group of hobbits approaching. "You know where Frodo is? I wanna wish him a happy birthday, too."

"Oh, he's been here and there for most of the night," Bilbo said. "I'm sure you'll find him eventually."

Quinn waved goodbye and set off with Toven towards the busiest part of the field, where several picnic tables laden with food were lined up. She spotted a platter of mince pies, still steaming through the crust, and put a hand over her eyes.

"Oh, god, I can't even look. Go get whatever you want, but you better not come back with a plate full of cake."

"Got it."

As Toven headed for the food, Quinn found a table and sat down, the bench creaking under her weight. She hadn't missed the glances most of the hobbits sent her way, like they did every time she visited the Shire. Although she'd traded her armor for a simple tunic and coat to try and blend in, she guessed standing head and shoulders above the crowd didn't really help in that regard.

When Toven reached the table with his food, she raised an eyebrow. "What did I say?"

"You said not to come back with a plate full of cake," he said, setting his food on the table. "You didn't say anything about half. And I got vegetables, too." He pointed at the lone lettuce leaf on the edge of the plate.

Quinn snorted. "Okay, good one." She reached over the table to high five him.

While Toven dug in, Quinn busied herself looking around at the other partygoers. Several hobbits were dancing and clapping along to the small band playing in one corner. Three of them were winding through the tables, balancing an enormous birthday cake on their palms. There were plenty of exits out of the field, but it was still crowded enough that everyone would be tripping over each other if something happened.

She sighed and shook her head. Nothing was going to happen—Bilbo had always assured her as much. Usually she wouldn't have worried about stuff like that, but…

Quinn looked over at the kid sitting across from her. Things were different now.

He still claimed he didn't remember the close call with the bandits, and he'd been young enough that Quinn sometimes believed him. They'd been crossing the Misty Mountains when it happened, during their first and only long journey together. She still wondered sometimes if she should have let him stay in Erebor, at least until he was older. But the Rangers of the North had needed her help—they were spread out, and didn't have any strong fortifications like in the east. And Quinn had decided she didn't want to go months at a time without seeing her son.

"What are you thinking about?" Toven asked.

She looked at him and realized he was staring at her, his plate empty.

Quinn leaned her elbows on the table. "Be straight with me. Are you happy?"

He blinked at her for a moment. "Yeah. Why?"

"Just checking." She leaned back with a smile. "You finished? Why don't you go play with the other kids?"

He glanced over to where a group of children were kneeling beneath a tree, drawing something in the dirt.

"You'll be fine. Remember what I said—if anyone says anything mean, just sock 'em."

Toven smiled wryly, then stood up and walked over to the tree. Quinn watched as he knelt down and said something, and the hobbit who looked to be the oldest responded.

"He must be your first."

Quinn looked up to see a hobbit with ruddy cheeks and tight blonde curls standing next to her. "How can you tell?"

She laughed and took Toven's vacated spot. "I was the same with mine. Barely took my eyes off him. I was always worried he was going to get into some sort of trouble, and I would have to be there to wipe his tears away. But when you have your second, you'll realize you needn't have worried at all."

Quinn smiled and shook her head. _Definitely don't plan on having a second one. _"And how many kids do you have?"

The hobbit tilted her head in thought. "I had my twelfth just this past spring."

"_Twelve?_" Her eyes widened. "So you're, like, an expert."

She chuckled, her cheeks growing redder. "I suppose you could say that. And believe me, it comes from experience when I say you have nothing to worry about."

Quinn glanced at the group of children. Toven was laughing as one of the hobbits threw something onto the ground. She thought back to the night in the mountains when she'd had to pull three arrows out of her back after killing the bandits that had threatened her son. "Yeah, I guess it kind of depends on the situation."

The hobbit nodded. "I suppose."

"Respect to you, though. Twelve kids has gotta be a lot of work."

She smiled. "I daresay it's the most respectable occupation in the Shire." She raised her mug and walked off.

Quinn went back to scanning the crowd, and perked up as she spotted two taller figures making their way past the row of tents. She skirted around the table and ran past a couple of tents, nearly knocking over a hobbit with a keg balanced on one shoulder.

When she finally reached the pair, she spread her arms wide. "Look who decided to show up!"

"Quinn!" Kíli's face broke into a grin. "I didn't know you were coming."

"It's good to see you again." Tauriel laughed as Quinn picked her up and spun her around. "How have you been?"

"You know me. Same old. Fought a small dragon, so remind me to tell you about that one."

Kíli looked around. "Is Toven here?"

"Yeah, playing with the other kids. How are things in Erebor?"

"Fíli sends his regards. Technically, I'm supposed to be overseeing some matters in the Blue Mountains, but…" He looked around and shrugged. "It was perfect timing for us to stop by."

"Genius move, my lord." Quinn bowed, and Kíli rolled his eyes.

He did look more like a dwarf lord now that his beard had finally grown in. Tauriel, on the other hand, looked exactly the same as she had the day they'd met, except for the braid in her hair that matched Kíli's.

A low _crack_ sounded overhead, and they all looked up to see a shower of gold sparks burst across the night sky.

Quinn's mouth dropped open. "Was that a firework?"

Kíli nodded. "Bilbo said Gandalf would bring some. Apparently the last time he brought them was decades ago."

"This world has _fireworks? Gandalf _has some? And no one told me?"

"Naturally." Kíli chuckled.

"I didn't realize this would be such a shock to you," Tauriel said, arching one elegant eyebrow.

"Did you know about this too?" Quinn asked. When she nodded, lips twitching, Quinn threw up her hands. "Alright, well, you guys aren't my best friends anymore."

She looked down as someone tugged on her coat. Toven was at her side, brow furrowed. "What's that loud noise?"

"It's just fireworks, kiddo." She frowned as another one went off and he flinched. "Hey, don't worry. They're not dangerous." She paused. "Actually, that's not true. A firework sent me to the ER once."

Kíli put a hand on Toven's shoulder and said something in Khuzdul that made him nod and reply in the same language.

Quinn spread her hands and turned to Tauriel. "Still can't believe he can speak it, but not me."

Tauriel smiled. "To be fair, you did fall asleep when Balin tried to give you a lesson."

"Yeah, and I don't even need to sleep anymore. It was just that boring."

Kíli stepped back and straightened. "We're going to find Thorin. See you later?"

"Alright, I'll see you guys around." Quinn stepped aside to let him and Tauriel pass, then turned to Toven. "Let's see what else they've got going on here."

They wandered past a few tents and a portion of the field where a group of hobbits were playing what looked suspiciously like mini golf. They swung back around to the food table so Toven could grab a snack, then ended up outside a canopy where Bilbo was sitting in front of a crowd of younger hobbit children.

"So there I was, at the mercy of three monstrous trolls…" Bilbo looked up as he noticed them. "Oh, hello! I was just telling a story—you're welcome to sit in." He winked at Quinn. "I think you might be familiar with this one."

Toven looked up at her with wide eyes. "Is this the story of your quest?"

"Yeah. I've told you this one before."

"But when you tell it, it never makes much sense." He took a seat on the grass.

"Wow…" Quinn crossed her arms and shook her head, but stayed to listen as Bilbo continued with his tale. She had to admit, Bilbo was a much better storyteller, and she found herself captivated even though she knew the Company eventually made it safely to Rivendell.

"We stayed for many days in Rivendell, enjoying the wonderful songs of the elves and resting for the next part of our journey. And it was there that we were joined by a tall warrior…"

Toven turned to look at her, an excited grin shining on his face, and Quinn couldn't help but smile back.

That right there…that made everything worth it.

Quinn decided he was in good hands for the moment, and decided to try and find Frodo. Besides, she didn't really want to hear Bilbo retell all the dumb mistakes she'd made during the quest.

She wandered to the other side of the field, and paused as she heard a pair of arguing voices coming from behind one of the tents.

"You said you were going to be the lookout!"

"No I didn't, now help me up! And watch where you're sitting, you're squashing them!"

Narrowing her eyes, Quinn walked around the tent and peered around the corner. Two hobbits were sitting in a large wagon filled with fireworks. They both froze when they saw her.

She pointed. "Are those Gandalf's fireworks?"

They exchanged a guilty glance.

"Wait, are you guys stealing them?"

Both hobbits began stammering excuses.

"W-Well we were just—"

"No, no. I mean, I don't think—"

Quinn stepped forward and hopped up on the wheel so she could get a better look at the wagon's contents. "Did you pick any out yet?"

One of them stopped his stammering and lifted up a blue and white rocket. His companion whacked him on the arm.

"No, grab the big one there!" He pointed.

Quinn grinned as he lifted a red and gold one shaped like a dragon's head. "Oh, that's gonna be _sick_." She leaned over to take half a dozen green ones. "Don't mind if I do…"

"Did you want to help us light this one?" The hobbit held up the dragon rocket.

"Of course." She waved her bundle. "And then I'm gonna teach you guys how to make a Floridian Matchstick." She held out a hand. "Quinn."

"Pippin." The hobbit shook her hand eagerly. "And this is my cousin Merry."

Giggling, they crept away from the wagon and into a small alley between two tents. Quinn stuck the firework in the ground while Pippin lit a match.

"We gotta get a perfect angle on this bad boy," she said, wiggling it. "If you do it straight upwards, you risk getting pelted with burning cardboard. But if you lean it too far, it'll go through your neighbor's window, and then you have to hide from the cops."

"Are you an expert on fireworks, or something?" Merry asked.

"I've had my fair share of experience." Satisfied, she stepped back, and Pippin lit the fuse. "It's been a while, though."

The firework shot into the sky, and the hobbits coughed at the cloud of smoke it left behind. Quinn smiled as it burst into gold sparks. Out in the field, the crowd cheered.

"Nice one. Oh, it's…still going."

The firework dipped down suddenly, and a pair of sparkling wings flared out on either side.

"What the fuck is that?" Quinn's eyes widened as the firework-dragon swooped towards the crowd, and the cheers turned into screams. She put one hand on her hip, but she'd left her sword back with the horse—and she'd left Toven alone—

The dragon swept over the field and the lake, then exploded above the hills on the horizon. The crowd began cheering again.

"Phew." Quinn put a hand on her forehead. "Note to self: don't do that again."

Merry and Pippin were wearing matching grins.

"Oh, that was good."

"Let's do another one!"

Quinn remembered the bundle of fireworks in her hand. "Right." These looked pretty nondescript, and she hoped they wouldn't turn into any terrorizing magical creatures. "Okay, here's how you make a Floridian Matchstick." She squatted down and placed all of them in the ground. "Normally I would duct tape them together, but I'll settle for a piece of string or something."

Merry took a piece of fishing line out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"That works." She tied the string around the rockets. "Now, you turn the fuses outward like so… And this is just a tradition with my friends, but we used to light the firework, then use it to light our joints. Do you guys smoke?"

Pippin patted his pockets. "Ah, I left my pipe at home."

She pointed at him. "We're smoking later." She finished arranging the fuses. "Okay, now hand me the…" All three of them froze as a looming shadow appeared at the end of the alley.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took." Gandalf glanced at the two hobbits, then looked at her, and Quinn swore she could see his hair get a little bit grayer. "And Quinn. I didn't realize you three were…"

"What fireworks?" Quinn shoved the bundle of fireworks under the flap of one of the tents.

Gandalf let out a bone-deep sigh and turned back to the hobbits. "I think you two should come with me." They sidled out of the alley, wearing matching guilty expressions.

Quinn rested her elbows on her knees. "You giving me a pass on this one?"

"I'll deal with you later." Gandalf gave her a warning look before following Merry and Pippin.

"Looking forward to it, my man," she called after him.

She stood up and stretched, then made her way back into the main area. Most of the commotion seemed to have died down, and the partygoers were lounging at tables and on blankets, sipping ale and talking amongst each other.

Quinn spotted Frodo's dark curly hair and vaulted over the table so she could sit next to him. "Hey, Froyo!"

He jumped at her sudden appearance, then smiled. "Quinn! Are you enjoying the party?"

"Of course, this is the best time I've had in years." She punched his shoulder lightly. "And happy birthday. Big thirty-three, huh?"

He chuckled. "That's right. I didn't expect this whole affair to be so… I mean, these joint birthday parties have gotten more ostentatious over the years, but this time Bilbo's really outdone himself."

"Yeah, he really knows how to show people a good time." She tilted her head, noticing a slight crease in Frodo's brow. "Something wrong?"

"It's just that Bilbo's been acting…strange these past few days. He's been more secretive than usual, looking over old maps and muttering to himself when he thinks I'm not listening. Thorin won't give me any indication as to what's on his mind. In fact, he's been acting a bit odd as well." Frodo glanced at her. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Not a clue." Quinn shrugged. "You know, sometimes old people are just weird. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

The bench creaked, and they turned to see Toven walking down from the end.

"Hey, you." Quinn turned back to Frodo. "This is my son, Toven."

Frodo reached across to shake his hand. "Frodo Baggins. It's a pleasure to meet you."

A few people in the crowd started calling out for a speech, and they all looked up to see Bilbo climb onto the stage at one end of the area. Frodo joined in, and Quinn whistled loudly.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks…"

Quinn figured she didn't need to listen to the introductions and turned to Toven. "Still having a good time?" she whispered.

He nodded.

"Did you see that dragon firework?"

"Yeah. Everyone was scared, but I wasn't."

"Proud of you." She patted his shoulder. "I don't even know what kind of psycho would light that one up, especially with some of the guests here." She glanced around. Kíli was standing at the edge of the crowd, his arm around Tauriel's waist. Thorin was nowhere to be seen, however.

The crowd, which had been laughing and murmuring during Bilbo's speech, fell silent. Quinn looked back at the stage, where Bilbo was fiddling with something in his waistcoat pocket.

"I, uh, I have things to do." He clasped his hands behind his back, looking rather distracted. "I regret to announce this is the end. I'm going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell." He looked at Frodo and said with a smile, "Goodbye."

And he vanished.

The crowd gasped, and several hobbits leapt to their feet. A few of those in front ran towards the stage and looked around it.

Toven's mouth fell open. "How did he do that?"

"Oh, damn." Quinn turned to Frodo. "Yeah, that was definitely weird."

**And I'm back after a year hiatus! I've been wanting to come back to this story for a while, so I hope you all enjoy it. **

**PTH chapter titles were all video game references, but this time around I'm going with Luca Turilli lyrics. This is partially to indicate a more serious tone for the story (there's gonna be plenty of dumb jokes though, don't worry) and because all of their songs just have bangin' lyrics.**

**Anyway, this is the second of the sort of recap chapters since there's been a huge time gap between PTH and this one. I'm hoping the pacing wasn't too weird with all the new information, but let me know. Next chapter we'll have another time jump and get into some more serious stuff.**


	3. Shadows are Coming

**Chapter 3: Shadows are Coming**

"Yo, this place _reeks_."

Quinn dismounted her horse and led it through the front gate of Isengard. In the center of the circular yard stood the Saruman's tower, a spire of black stone with four sharp peaks at the top that looked like teeth.

In her opinion, designing a tower like that was basically announcing, _Free villainous monologues inside! _She knew Saruman wasn't exactly a chill guy, but he could've at least put up a couple decorations or something to make the place look more inviting.

The one saving grace had been the lush trees that had filled the space outside the tower. But they'd all been cut down since the last time she'd been here. Several pits had been dug across the barren land, and foul-smelling smoke was rising from a few of them. There were a few Dunlendings milling about as well, using ladders to climb in and out of the pits. They watched her with glinting eyes and she passed, and she ignored them.

Quinn walked beneath the shadow of the tower and, as her eyes adjusted, she noticed a pale man in black descending the steps to the front door.

"Greetings, warrior." He leaned forward in a very minimum-effort bow. "I will show you upstairs."

_Guess Saruman got himself a PA. _She gave a short nod and released the reins of her horse. The guy looked so pale she had to wonder if he was recently deceased—and that was coming from someone who had been dead for almost eighty years.

The man looked at her coldly, and disappeared through the doorway. Quinn glanced at a trio of Dunlendings nearby who were leering at her horse. She lifted two fingers to her eyes, then pointed them at the group.

With that out of the way, she took the stairs up and into the tower. The inside was of a similar design to the outside, all black stone with lattice windows to let the light in. The tower was narrow enough that there was only space for one room on each floor, and a set of stairs leading to the next. The first four floors were pretty empty, and Quinn wondered every time why Saruman didn't set up shop on the first floor so he didn't have to walk up all those stairs. The man in front of her was already out of breath, though he was clearly trying to hide it.

Eventually they reached the floor where she usually met with the wizard. Quinn pretended not to notice while Saruman's PA caught his breath. After a few moments, he gave another half-hearted bow and said, "Saruman will be with you shortly."

She gave him another short nod, and he descended the stairs. It still felt weird having to pretend to be someone else every time she came here, but she'd gotten a little more comfortable with it over time.

She frowned and took a couple steps forward. Saruman was nowhere to be seen—and the dude always stood out against the black decor in his white robes. He was usually sitting on the raised chair at the other end of the room, but at the moment it was empty.

There were two other doors besides the one she'd come through, and she tried to peer through each, but it was hard to see much behind the frosted glass. Quinn turned her attention to the pedestal in the center of the room.

"Okay, for twenty bucks…" She glanced at Belekur, who had appeared beside her. "What do you think is under that cloth?"

It was some sort of sphere, but it was covered by dark fabric, and Quinn had to try not to stare every time she visited. Saruman always acted like he didn't even know the thing was in the room.

"Maybe it's a control unit, and this tower can turn into a giant mech or a laser cannon or something." She pinched the cloth between two fingers and looked at Belekur again. After a moment, they nodded for her to take the cloth off.

Carefully, she lifted it, revealing what looked like a big black marble beneath.

"Okay, control unit theory's still on the table." Quinn reached out and touched it.

A low growl filled her ears, like a rush of fire. Bright orange flashed in her vision, flaring out in the shape of an eye with a slitted black pupil. Quinn leapt back, letting the cloth fall back into place.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" she gasped, even though she already knew the answer. She'd seen that eye before, years ago, during the attack on Dol Guldur. "Was that Sauron?" She took a step forward. "Is he stuck in the marble?"

"That is a Palantír," Belekur said. "A Seeing-stone, used to communicate over long distances."

"Oh. Okay." She straightened. "It's a FaceTime marble. But does that mean…"

"The wizard has betrayed us. He has allied himself with Sauron."

"Are you kidding me? _Fuck_." She sucked in air through her teeth. "And I was definitely not supposed to see that." She reached out to adjust the cloth. "Does it look like I touched it?"

Before Belekur could respond, the door to the right swung open, and Saruman entered the room.

Quinn lowered her hands to her sides and cleared her throat. "It's been ten years since the last time you called me here. I assume you have a lead you want me to follow."

"Indeed." Saruman stopped on the other side of the pedestal, letting his staff rest on the floor with a small _click_. "The task I would give you may be the most decisive of them all." He paused. "And yet…my mind has been plagued with doubt as of late."

_Yeah, we all got doubts, buddy. At least I'm not two-timing with an evil flaming eyeball._ Quinn tried not to glare.

"I fear this world has softened you, perhaps weakened your resolve."

She stiffened. "What?"

Saruman grinned, though it looked more like a grimace on his narrow face. "I have eyes all over Middle-earth. And I do not only watch my enemies, but my allies as well."

_Fuck_. Quinn went completely still. Did that mean he knew about her friends—about Toven? What if he'd already sent people after them? If this sicko had switched sides without telling her, she had no idea what he was planning to do next.

She clenched her jaw and forced herself to calm down. She had to do whatever it took to make it out of here alive.

"_Nothing_ would sway me from my purpose," she growled. "I was brought to this world to defeat Sauron, and I will not allow anything or anyone to stand in my way."

Saruman continued to watch her closely, his eyes glinting like black ice. "I have received word that the Nine have crossed the Fords of Isen. They are headed north in search of the Shire. I have long suspected that the bearer of the ring is hiding there."

Quinn narrowed her eyes slightly. It didn't make much sense to her that someone in the Shire of all places would have the One Ring, but a lead was a lead.

"Follow the Black Riders to the Shire, and they will lead you to the Ring. Bring it back to me to prove your loyalty. And then we will destroy Sauron together."

"The wizard means to betray you," Belekur said. "And he has outlived his purpose. Kill him now."

If her heart had still been beating, Quinn was sure it would have been going a mile a minute. She ignored the urge to grasp the hilt of her sword. "I have nothing to prove to you, wizard. I'll follow the Nine like you asked. And Sauron _will_ fall."

She turned and left the room, feeling the wizard's piercing gaze on the back of her neck.

The pale man was waiting on the ground floor, and she swept by him without a word. The Dunlendings from before were gathered around her horse, but when they saw her they scattered. Quinn snatched up the reins and mounted, then set off at a trot down the path.

It wasn't until they were out the gate that Belekur spoke. "The wizard is preparing for war. He desires the ring so he himself can hold dominion over this land. If you allow him to live, it will be at the cost of other lives."

"I know that." Her grip tightened on the reins. "He is such an _asshole_. But what was I supposed to do, run up and cut off his head?"

"Wizards bleed as any other man."

"But he's not a man. I don't know what I'm up against. He could have…blown me to pieces with his wizard staff for all I know."

"You are afraid." The words came out as an accusation.

"Of fucking course I'm afraid. And it doesn't help when you project your suicidal tendencies on me." She turned to glare at them. "I have to look out for my son. I can't do that if I'm in twenty different pieces on the side of the tower wall."

"Saruman was right. Your attachments in this world have weakened your resolve."

"Doesn't matter. We're going with my plan. I'm going to find Gandalf and tell him what Saruman is planning. He should at least be able to tell me how to kill a wizard." She smiled to herself. "'Never pounce on an advantage as soon as it appears. Wait until it stands to have maximum effect.'"

The Isen came into view, and Quinn steered her mount towards the undulating water. She was going to have to move hard and fast to make it to the Shire.

"In the meantime, I say we go Nazgûl hunting. Maybe that'll cheer you up."

She spurred her horse to go faster. Her last showdown with the wraiths hadn't exactly gone in her favor, but she'd had decades to prepare between then and now.

And she wasn't going to let them hurt anyone else.

* * *

Quinn was in a terrible mood.

She'd reached the Shire, but she hadn't yet caught up to the Nazgûl. Either Saruman had given her outdated information, or the wraiths had the fastest horses in Middle-earth—either way, she had to catch them before they found the ring. She had no idea what would happen if they actually found it. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with a bunch of powered-up super-wraiths.

Night had fallen, and fog shrouded the forest. She kept the Brandywine River on her right, scanning the trees for any black-cloaked horsemen. It had been mostly a shot in the dark, tracking them across Eriador (especially since she couldn't track for shit), but here the hobbits would probably be able to point her in the right direction. It was pretty hard for anyone, much less creepy evil ghosts, to sneak by in a place like the Shire.

_At least Bilbo doesn't have to deal with any of this shit_. After the incident at his birthday party, he and Thorin had disappeared, but she'd run into them a few years later in Rivendell. Apparently Bilbo had wanted a change of scenery (and a dramatic exit) and Thorin was cool enough with elves to hang around too.

They were out of danger for the moment, but that didn't include her other friends. Quinn slowed her horse to a walk, chewing on the inside of her cheek. _Who in the goddamn is keeping an evil ring in the Shire?_

She paused and tilted her head. At first, she'd thought it was the wind, but now she recognized the distinct sound of breathing coming from the brush. She turned and scanned the forest, but even her enhanced senses couldn't pick anything out of the shadows.

"Who the hell is hiding there?" she called out. It probably wasn't the wraiths, but maybe whoever it was could give her something more to go on. "Come out and say hi."

"Quinn?" A head of curly hair emerged from the bushes.

"Frodo?" She watched him wade through the brush and onto the road, followed by Sam, Merry, and Pippin. "Wow, the gang's all here. What are you guys doing so far from Hobbiton?"

"We—We're trying to get to Bree."

"In the middle of the night?" Quinn searched their faces. All four of them were pale and out of breath. "Are you guys okay?"

Frodo glanced down either end of the road, then took a couple steps towards her horse. "Quinn, we're being followed. We need to make it to Bucklebury Ferry to try and lose them."

She stared at him as a sinking feeling appeared in her stomach. "Who's following you?"

"Horsemen, dressed in black. They nearly discovered us earlier today."

Quinn sat back in the saddle. "Motherfucking _shit…_" She turned back to Frodo. "_You_ have it?"

"Have what?" Merry stepped forward. "Frodo, what's going on?"

Frodo glanced at him. "We're not safe here. We need to keep moving." He turned back to Quinn. "Will you help us?"

"Dude, you don't even have to ask." She looked at him for another moment, and he sent her a _We'll talk about this later_ look. "I'd ask you to hop on, but I don't think all five of us would fit."

"The ferry isn't far from here," Merry said. "About half a mile."

Quinn motioned for the hobbits to start moving, and nudged her horse into a walk so she could keep pace with them. "When did the riders start following you?"

"Only today," Frodo replied. "Gandalf warned me that I should leave the Shire for my own safety. I'm supposed to meet him in Bree."

"Oh, good. I might come with you. I have some news for him, too."

Frodo sent her a curious glance, and she forced a smile. She didn't like keeping secrets from him, or knowing that he was keeping secrets from her.

"We'll talk once we get to Bree," she said. "You're right—it's not safe out here."

They traveled in tense silence. Every rustle or animal noise made Frodo tense and whip his head around. Merry and Pippin walked together near the horse's flank, whispering quietly to one another. Sam stayed close to Frodo, gripping the straps of his pack.

Quinn frowned as a cloud passed over the moon. "How far to the ferry, now? I don't—"

A bone-chilling shriek rent the air, making all of them jump.

"Jesus shit, I will never get used to that." Quinn made sure her sword was free in its sheath, then turned to the hobbits. "Make a run for it. I'll keep 'em busy."

The hobbits broke into a run, and Quinn spurred her horse into a gallop. It wasn't long before she spotted the rider coming down the path.

"Hey, dipshit!" The moonlight returned in full brightness. Quinn drew her sword and raised it to the light, then swung it in a wide arc towards the Nazgûl.

A beam of light struck the rider directly in the chest, and it dissipated with a hiss, leaving a tattered black cloak fluttering to the ground. Its black mount passed by harmlessly.

Quinn turned to see the hobbits running up the path, and they flinched away when the horse ran past.

"Come on!" To her right, she could see the glint of the river, and to the left were two shadows flitting between the trees.

She sent another beam of light towards the two riders. The energy cracked against the trees, leaving charred marks behind, and the Nazgûl screeched and veered away.

Not long afterwards, the ferry came into sight. It was only a wooden raft tied to a small dock. Quinn pulled her horse to a halt, scanning the woods as she waited for the hobbits to catch up. They passed her, breathing hard, and hurried towards the dock.

"Sam, get the rope!"

Frodo stopped and turned back to her. "Quinn?"

"Go!" She waved at him to move on. Another Nazgûl was barreling down the path towards the ferry. "I'll catch up with you later!"

She nudged her horse into a gallop and raised her sword, but another cloud had passed over the moon, and the blade remained dim.

"Okay, old-fashioned way it is." Quinn stood up, bracing both hands on the saddle. At the last second, she put both feet on the back of the saddle and launched herself off the horse. She collided with the rider at an angle, sending them both crashing to the ground. Her hands and knees sunk into the black fabric, and Quinn hissed through her teeth—it felt like she'd just submerged her skin in ice water.

She fumbled for her sword, which had landed on the ground nearby, and raised it high. It crossed a beam of moonlight, and white energy seared across the blade. The Nazgûl shrieked and reached for its own weapon. She stabbed downwards into the swirling black cloth, and the wraith dissipated with a hiss.

Quinn stood up and shook her hands to get some feeling back into them. The Nazgûl had a strange energy about them that she could only describe as a Bad Vibe, and it always left her feeling slightly shaken. She frowned at the wicked-looking blade lying in the grass. That was the one weapon she feared—if Belekur gained control again, she doubted she would ever get it back.

She rolled her shoulders and turned to the river. The dark shape of the hobbits crowded on the raft was visible on the glimmering water. They were safe for now, but she would have to head off the other two riders before they reached Bree.

Quinn looked around. "Epona?"

Her horse was nowhere to be seen, and the two riderless horses had disappeared as well.

"God dammit. That's the second horse this year." She reached down to pick up the Morgul blade and tossed it into the river. "Old-fashioned way it is, then."

She sheathed her sword and started jogging down the path.

**I know it's funnier to have Quinn as a fumbling idiot, but I really enjoyed writing fights scenes where she gets little badass moments. And there's some pretty crazy fight scenes later on that I'm really looking forward to.**

**And just to be clear, last chapter took place during Bilbo's birthday party. This one is after the 17 year time jump between the party and the War of the Ring. Just wanted to make a note of this since some fics give the impression that these events happen within the same year. This also means Toven is an adult now, so I'm probably going to give him some POV sections when he shows up again.**


	4. The Cry of the Damned

**Chapter 4: The Cry of the Damned**

Running through the forest was _not_ fun.

Quinn could run at a full sprint for days at a time—perks of being dead. That was all well and good on the plains of Rohan or the grassy stretches west of the Misty Mountains. But forests, with their fallen branches and rocks and hidden rabbit holes? Not fun. Even with her weird postmortem healing, it _sucked_ to run with a broken ankle.

Doing it all at night was doubly not fun, and Quinn had spent the last few hours fantasizing about tying the Nazgûl's hoods together like a bundle of carrots and tossing them into the ocean. See if they could do their master's dark bidding beneath fifty feet of seawater.

The last sign of them had been at Bree, where they'd left a collapsed gate and a dozen terrified townspeople. Quinn hadn't caught any sign of the hobbits, though, and she hoped they'd been able to escape with Gandalf's help.

The next sign had been just off the road. The ruins of Amon Sûl, a watchtower from the old days, was used mostly as a shelter for passing travelers. She'd only given it a glance, but the small orange light shining from one of the upper levels had made her pause. She knew Rangers weren't dumb enough to light a fire in plain sight like that, and she doubted the Nazgûl were up there roasting marshmallows. But she knew a group of hobbits who had never been outside the Shire before might do something like that.

Quinn was nearly at the watchtower when the light went out. She frowned and paused, and a second later, a shriek pierced the forest.

"God damn cloak-wearing screechy-ass bastards." She broke into a sprint again, shoving a branch away before it could smack her in the face. The Nazgûl's cry had echoed, making it hard to pinpoint its exact origin, but it was loud enough for her to tell that they were close.

A figure stepped around from behind a tree and swung a sword at her neck. Quinn dropped into a crouch, and the metal thumped against the bark.

"Quinn!" He lowered his sword. "I-I almost—"

"Yeah, please don't decapitate me, I honestly don't know what that'll do." She straightened. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," Toven replied. She almost hadn't seen him at all, what with his dark Ranger's garb that blended into the shadowed forest.

"Don't give me that sass." She shoved his shoulder lightly. A chill crept over the forest, and she remembered herself. "Look, we can catch up later. We need to get out of here."

He shook his head. "Frodo and the others—"

"Up in the tower? I'll take care of them. You need to go." Quinn started walking, but he blocked her path.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll stand with you."

She clenched her jaw. Toven was an adult now, and normally she trusted him to handle himself, but things were different now. "Listen to me. These aren't orcs or bandits we're dealing with. This is real shit." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You need to find a way out of here. Promise me you will _not_ engage with those things."

His eyes narrowed. "Quinn—"

"Just get out of here." She brushed past him and sprinted for the tower. She hurried through the entrance, the door having rotted away years ago, and took the stairs two at a time.

The Nazgûl were already at the top. Five black-cloaked figures advanced on the cluster of hobbits standing in the center of the roof. Someone had given them swords, but Quinn already knew none of them knew how to use one.

The wraiths hadn't noticed her yet. Quinn drew her sword as quietly as she could and held it up to the light. From here she had a clear shot of all five, and they were tall enough that her strike would miss the hobbits entirely.

The scraping of metal sounded behind her, and Quinn ducked as a blade sailed over her head. She cursed and rolled out of the way as another strike clanged against the stone where she'd just been crouching. She'd nearly forgotten about the two Nazgûl left unaccounted for.

The wraiths pressed her with swift, punishing blows, and Quinn leapt back to put some room between herself and them. Normally, she could take a pretty big hit and keep fighting, but one scratch from a Morgul blade was game over for her.

She spared a glance at the hobbits. They'd been scattered, lying on the ground and winded but seemingly uninjured. The remaining five wraiths seemed more focused on something at the other end of the rooftop.

"Run!" she cried. "Get out of here!"

"Where's Frodo?" Sam staggered to his feet and drew his sword.

"_Shit_." Quinn dodged another strike from the Nazgûl and drove her blade upwards. Her sword flashed, and the wraith disappeared with a shriek. Her other attacker lunged, its blade scraping along her breastplate, and Quinn took a step back.

_Can't let them get that close. Have to keep out of range._

With a cry and a burst of flame, a dark-haired man reached the top of the watchtower. He swung the torch gripped in one hand, and the Nazgûl retreated from the fire with a chorus of shrieks. He raised the sword in his other hand to block a wraith's blade. Toven followed a moment after, and tried to strike one of the Nazgûl with his sword. The blade bounced off its black cloak as if it had struck armor.

"Regular weapons don't work on them," Quinn said, moving next to him and parrying another wraith. "Also, what did I say about leaving?"

"I couldn't—"

Toven's reply was cut off as a scream split the air. Quinn looked over and saw the hobbits gathered around Frodo's writhing body. Cold fear seized her chest.

"No, _no_." Quinn held her sword in the air, then brought it down in a vertical slice. A shining beam of light split one of the wraiths in half.

The man with the torch was whirling through the black-cloaked wraiths, driving them back with one hand and parrying their blows with another.

Quinn darted between Toven and one of the Nazgûl and used her weight to shove him backwards. "Dude, get out of here!"

The wraith blocked her strike with its sword, then backhanded her with his other hand. Quinn lost her balance, and the wraith pressed her with another blow, sending her onto her back. She grit her teeth and forced her sword upwards against the Nazgûl's.

Toven stepped forward and rammed his blade through the wraith's back, but it passed through the black cloth ineffectually.

"I got this!" Quinn snapped, and lifted one foot to kick at the wraith's general crotch area. It didn't react.

Something bright flew at them from the side. Quinn and the Nazgûl both turned to see the torch hurtling directly at them, and the burning end embedded itself beneath the wraith's hood. It shrieked as flames crawled over its cloak, and stumbled backwards and over the edge of the tower.

Quinn pushed herself to her feet and grabbed Toven by the arms. "Did any of them hit you? Do you feel cold anywhere?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I'm fine."

She turned away, concern overriding anger for the moment. The three hobbits were kneeling beside Frodo. Sam looked up, his face wet with tears.

"Help him, Strider!"

The man went to kneel by Frodo, and Quinn and Toven followed. Frodo's face was pale, and the fabric by his shoulder was soaked in blood.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." The man glanced at the discarded knife on the stone floor. "This is beyond my skill to heal."

Quinn stepped forward. "But he can be healed?"

The man looked up at her, and she finally recognized him—Aragorn, one of the higher ranking Rangers. She'd seen him a handful of times, but it had been several years since the last time.

"He needs Elvish medicine. We'll have to take him to Rivendell."

Aragorn lifted Frodo into his arms, and the hobbit cried out as his wound was jostled. Quinn winced at the noise. She'd seen others bleeding and dying before, but seeing her friend in such pain…she felt sick.

The rest of the hobbits followed as Aragorn carried Frodo to the stairs. Shakily, Quinn knelt down and picked up the Morgul blade.

"Cloak."

Toven stepped forward and offered his. She would have used her own if she had it, but she kept losing it and didn't really need one anyway. She wrapped the blade in the fabric several times, taking care near the point of the blade.

"What are you doing?" Toven asked.

"We'll talk later." She looked up and glared. "And we are going to _talk_ later."

* * *

Quinn scanned the plains just beyond the forest, keeping her eyes peeled for even the slightest twitch of movement. Her nerves had been raw for the past few days, each twitch of brush making her hand fly to her sword.

Frodo's condition had worsened. He spent most of the time in feverish and restless sleep, and nothing seemed to help him. Despite the ruthless pace at which they'd been moving and Quinn's shitty sense of direction, she knew they were still days away from Rivendell.

There wasn't much she could do except keep an eye out for the wraiths. She'd killed three of them, which left six somewhere out there, but apparently Aragorn lighting most of them on fire had been enough of an incentive for them to keep away for the time being.

"The wraiths need to be hunted down and destroyed."

Quinn didn't look at Belekur. "I know. Believe me, there's nothing I would like better. But I can't leave Frodo like this."

"There is nothing you can do for the halfling."

"I _know_ that. It's not about—you know what? Forget it. If you haven't gotten it by now, I don't think you ever will."

She trudged back towards the clearing where they'd stopped to rest for the night. Originally, she had volunteered to take Frodo by herself, since she didn't need to rest, but Aragorn had pointed out that she didn't know how to slow the poison from the blade, and if the Nazgûl decided to attack again, she'd be hard-pressed to fight them off by herself.

The others were in the clearing where she'd left them. To one side were three hulking shapes—apparently the stone corpses of the trolls that had attacked Bilbo all those years ago. The hobbits were kneeling in a tight knot around Frodo. Toven was clearing a space for him to lie down more comfortably, while Aragorn scanned the shadows with another torch.

"All clear, as far as I could tell," Quinn said as she passed. She went to crouch down beside Frodo. "How's he doing?"

It was clear enough by the sweat shining on his pale face and his hoarse, gasping breaths. She knew firsthand how painful it was to be struck by a Morgul blade. Seeing him like this made her want to punch something, preferably something ghostly wearing black.

Sam pressed his hand to Frodo's forehead. "H-He's gone cold!"

Pippin turned to Aragorn, looking slightly tearful. "Is he going to die?"

"He's passing into the Shadow World," Aragorn said.

_The Shadow World? What, like in A Link to the Past?_

"He'll soon become a wraith like them."

Quinn thought back to her own experience getting pulled out of her body, how she hadn't been able to speak with or touch anything other than the ground beneath her feet. She stood up.

"There has to be something we can do." Desperation was pulling tight at her chest. She was getting really close to finding the Nazgûl wraith and beating a cure out of it.

"Athelas might help to slow the poison," Aragorn said. He nodded to Sam. "Do you know it?"

"Athelas?"

"Kingsfoil."

"Aye, it's a weed." Sam scrambled to his feet. "But I know it."

The two of them set off into the brush, and Toven took the cue and went to look as well. Quinn sighed, pacing back and forth. After a minute, she went to find him.

He was in a clearing a little ways away, scanning the ground with his torch held aloft. He glanced at her as she approached, but didn't say anything.

"So, what does this Kingsfoil look like? I can help look."

"It has small white flowers. Tell me if you think you've found anything."

"Yep." She wasn't exactly an expert in plants that you couldn't smoke, and her skills hadn't exactly improved since her mushroom mishap in Mirkwood all those years ago. She puffed out her cheeks and nudged a bush with her toe. "We should probably have that talk now."

"All right."

Quinn flapped her arms at her sides. She was still tense as hell, but most of her anger from earlier had faded. "You know I'm not good at the…thing. The…"

"Having serious conversations?"

"Yeah." She scratched the side of her head. "Yeah, but you did a really dumb thing back there. You've seen Frodo. That—That could've been you."

Toven finally looked up and gave her a dry look. "I became a Ranger so that I could protect people, as you do. I'm not going to run at the first sign of danger."

"Okay, first of all, don't do things just because I do them. I once elbow dropped an orc from the top of a cliff. Nearly took my arm off. _I_ survived that, because I'm dead, but you wouldn't have. And second, I don't care if you elbow drop orcs from a normal height. Just don't fuck with the wraiths. Those things scare _me_."

"Aragorn was able to fight them off. I was following his orders—"

"Oh, come on." Quinn put her hands on her hips. "I know you look up to the guy, but don't turn this into a 'Mom said, Dad said' thing—"

Toven flushed. "That's not…" He lowered the torch and stepped towards her. "You may be my mother, but you seem to have forgotten that I'm not a child anymore. It's been a decade since I came of age—"

"You're fudging the numbers there, chief."

"—and I don't need to prove to you that I'm capable of making my own decisions. Even if it means risking my life."

Quinn ran a hand through her hair and let out an exasperated growl. "You should be _protecting_ your life. You—You're older than I was when I died. Don't just throw that away."

"You died defending your friends in battle."

Her fingers brushed the spot on her side where her ribs had been caved in by a mace. "Yeah, and it was dumb as hell."

"Do you regret it?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. If she hadn't made that stupid mistake during the battle, Kíli and Tauriel might have died that day. As much as she disliked being dead, she wouldn't ever take that back. She sighed. "I kinda feel like you won this round, and that makes me sad."

"You'll get over it." Toven plucked a handful of leaves with white flowers and walked back to camp.

Someone else had arrived while they'd been gone. A dark haired elf was kneeling beside Frodo, while Aragorn pressed a dark paste to his wound. Frodo let out a choked gasp and shivered.

"We must get him to my father," the elf said, lifting her head, and Quinn finally recognized her—Arwen, daughter of Elrond.

Aragorn lifted Frodo and placed him on Arwen's horse.

"There are six wraiths behind you," Arwen continued. "Where the other three are, I do not know."

"Not our problem, at least for now," Quinn said, and they both turned to look at her. "Still haven't figured out what their respawn period is."

Merry stepped forward, his fists clenched. "Where are you taking him?"

"Rivendell," Toven said. "They'll be able to heal him there, if they can make it in time."

"What are they saying?" Pippin asked, indicating Aragorn and Arwen, who were speaking in low Elvish to each other.

"No idea," Quinn muttered, rolling her shoulder. She'd never gotten the hang of Elvish, either. "Kinda rude, if you ask me."

Whatever the two of them were debating was decided a moment later, and Arwen mounted behind Frodo. Aragorn murmured one last thing to her, and she spurred her horse out of the clearing.

"What are you doing?" Sam cried. "Those wraiths are still out there!"

Quinn put a hand on her sword. "I can try and cover her. Those things need to go down regardless." And she would do whatever it took to make sure Frodo made it to Rivendell.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "You're on foot."

"I'm a fast runner. I do a lot of cross country since I keep…losing horses." She took the Morgul blade from where she'd tied it to her belt and handed it to Toven. "Hang onto this for me, and for the love of god, _don't_ touch it."

He nodded and accepted the sword.

"And, you know, don't die." Quinn looked around at the others, waved an awkward goodbye, and jogged off into the woods.

**So this is my first LOTR fic that isn't some crack-level parody, and I'm trying to keep some canon elements while still making this Quinn's story. I hope some of this stuff isn't too repetitive for you guys who read a lot of LOTR fic.**

**I'm headcanoning for this chapter that Nazgul aren't affected at all by steel weapons. I justify Eowyn's kill in ROTK as some kind of wordplay trickery—that, or she's just that good.**

**I don't really like writing grouchy Quinn, but it doesn't really make sense for her to be light-hearted in these situations (and I did say things were getting darker…) There'll still be some funny moments though, don't worry.**

**I thought we'd had enough scenes of Quinn fighting Nazgul, so next chapter is probably going to jump straight to Rivendell + first Toven POV!**


	5. Hail to the Warrior

**Chapter 5: Hail to the Warrior**

Toven was in the courtyard of Rivendell when the first horses arrived.

He'd been sitting on one of the balconies, staring at the green and orange trees on the other side of the valley. In the few days he'd been in Rivendell, he'd learned that there wasn't much to do. He'd taken his meals with the hobbits and Aragorn, but he'd spent a lot of time watching the entrance of the valley, waiting for Quinn to rejoin them.

The Nazgûl had pursued Arwen to the Bruinen, just outside of Rivendell, where a flood had swept them away. But there had been no sign of Quinn, and Toven wasn't sure what had delayed her.

He straightened when he saw movement on the valley path, but the newcomers were mounted, and he could tell even from a distance that neither was Quinn. He watched the pair of riders draw closer, then stood with a grin.

He was waiting in the courtyard by the entrance by the time the two dwarves rode in on their ponies. He raised a hand in greeting. "_Shamukh!_"

The red-haired dwarf in front squinted at him. "Toven! Is that you, lad?"

"None other."

With a booming laugh, Gimli dismounted his pony and enveloped him in a crushing embrace. "Why, look at you! You've grown into a young man!"

"Indeed, I have." Toven suppressed a wince. Gimli had certainly inherited his father's strength.

Glóin dismounted from his own pony and gave Toven a slap on the back that, according to Quinn, could "break the sound barrier." "Good to see you, lad."

"I did not expect to see either of you here," Toven said once Gimli released him.

"Well, I'm certainly not eager to be back," Glóin muttered.

"We're here on business, laddie," Gimli said. "Erebor received ill news a while back."

Toven frowned. "What about?"

"We'll talk once I've had something to wet my tongue." Glóin slung his cloak over his arm. "It's been a long ride here. The High Pass, if you can believe it, has become even less welcoming to travelers. I'd rather another goblin-cave than those whistling winds."

Gimli chuckled and took his pony by the reins. "How about a drink, then? You're old enough now, aye?"

"I am." Toven rolled his eyes. "I'll join you in a little. I'm waiting for Quinn. You haven't seen her, have you?"

"Not at all," Gimli said.

"And she's hard to miss," Glóin added.

"She'll turn up sooner or later," Gimli said. "With a tale to tell, like as not."

Toven half-smiled. Normally he would have shared their lack of concern, but the way she'd talked about the wraiths lingered in the back of his mind. If she feared them, that meant there was the chance they could do her real harm. He thought back to the Morgul blade, tucked away in the corner of his room, and wished she'd told him what she planned on doing with it.

"Thorin and Bilbo are here," he said. "I'm sure they'll be glad to see you."

"Aye, just the people we wanted to see," Glóin said. He scratched his chin and began leading his pony out of the courtyard. Gimli nodded goodbye and followed his father.

Toven went to sit on the stone rim just outside the entrance to the courtyard. He'd been through he High Pass only once in his life, and he'd been too young to remember any of it. But Quinn had told him how they'd been attacked by bandits on the road, how he'd come close to being hurt. It was one of the only times he'd seen something of a shadow pass over her face.

Years later, they'd gone hunting orcs together—a "mother-son bonding field trip," she'd called it. When a group of orcs ambushed them, she'd taken the worst of it, and with an orcish axe partially embedded in her side, had fretted over the cut on his arm. It seemed to him that there would always be a part of her that saw him as that vulnerable child on the mountainside—yet she still saw no reason for him to have any concern for her in return.

An hour later, another rider appeared on the path, this one on a dark brown horse. Toven watched him as he drew closer. His clothing was fine, though dusty from travel, and his bracers bore the White Tree of Gondor.

The man slowed his horse as he reached the gate. He looked down at Toven. "You are no elf."

_No shit_. He cleared his throat. "I am a Ranger. My name is Toven."

The man considered him for another moment, then dismounted. "Well met. I am Boromir of Gondor."

Toven stood and stepped forward to shake the man's hand. "What brings you to Rivendell, Master Boromir?"

"Seeking counsel. And you?"

"A friend of mine was injured, and he was brought here to recover. And I am waiting for…" He paused as a glint of metal caught his eye. "Ah, here she comes."

Quinn's armor was easy to recognize, even from a distance. The gray metal glinted purple in the sunlight, something he'd never seen in any other set of armor. Compared to the dark green of his clothing, it wasn't ideal for stealth, but she'd never gotten the hang of that anyway.

Boromir was watching her as well. "I've heard tales from the Rangers of Ithilien," he said, "of a Wraith Knight, a dead warrior in strange-colored armor who walks among the living."

"That is certainly one way to describe her," Toven said.

As Quinn drew closer, he realized she was soaking wet, though he was relieved to see she looked unharmed otherwise. She stopped running once she reached the gate, and droplets of water splattered onto the stone.

"Hey." She grinned at Toven. "You're okay."

"And you look like you swam here."

"I did, kinda." She pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face. "Arwen one-shotted all the Nazgûl with this crazy river magic, but I wanted to just double check that they were dead or vanquished or whatever, so I followed them down the river so I could, like, confiscate their evil swords or maybe just hold them underwater if they weren't dead yet, but I couldn't find anything and I got stuck in the river a couple times, so eventually I decided to just come back." She turned to Boromir, who was staring at her as if she'd sprouted a third eye. "Hi."

Trying not to laugh, Toven said, "Boromir, this is…my mother, Quinn. Quinn, this is Boromir of Gondor."

"Cool."

Boromir blinked and recovered. "I will take my leave." He grabbed the reins of his horse. He gave Quinn a wary glance, nodded to Toven, and walked into the courtyard.

Quinn watched him leave, then turned back to Toven. "Sorry, were you trying to make friends with him?"

"I was, and now you've ruined any chance of good will between the Rangers of the North and our cousins in Gondor."

"You'll get over it." She squeezed some water out of her hair. "How's Frodo? Did he make it?"

"He's healing. Lord Elrond was able to treat his wound, and he's been out of bed for a few days."

Her shoulders sagged in relief. "Oh, thank god. I was so worried. And everyone else is alright?"

Toven nodded and took her by the arm. "Let's get you dried off. Lord Elrond's gonna be mad if you get his upholstery wet."

"Oh, he gets mad when I show up dry." They walked into the courtyard. "Speaking of immortal beings who can't stand me, have you seen Gandalf?"

* * *

"Dude, next time you're late, I'm taking points off."

Gandalf partially turned to face her, looking unimpressed. "You say this having arrived earlier today."

Quinn pointedly looked around the balcony where they were standing. "Well, there's no Nazgûl attacking here, are there? Whatever. It's over and done with now." She waved a hand, making her loose sleeve flap to the side. She'd needed a change of clothes, so the elves had given her a spare set of robes, which kind of made her look like a wizard NPC.

"As for the reason why I was late," Gandalf said, "I was delayed. Saruman the White has betrayed our cause."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, so you know already."

His eyes narrowed. "Know what?"

"That, uh…Saruman the White has betrayed our cause."

Gandalf fully turned to her. "And how is it that you came by this information?"

Quinn puffed out her cheeks. "Well, I kinda struck a deal with the guy. This was way back, just after that big fight at Dol Guldur. I agreed to help him search for the One Ring so that we would be able to destroy the thing." She held her hands up. "If it makes you any less mad at me, it was Belekur's idea."

"Then that gives us an advantage."

"Wait, what?"

Gandalf turned to the flowering gardens just beneath the balcony, clearly lost in thought. "I have suspected that Saruman desires the Ring of Power for himself. He is mustering a great force to launch an assault on Middle-earth." He turned back to Quinn. "But you say you have his trust."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I think he might be onto me. I wanted to ask you how to kill a wizard so I could head back there and…" She drew a finger across her neck.

He let out a puff of air that might have been a laugh. "You would not survive a confrontation with Saruman, that I can guarantee."

"I couldn't just, I don't know, pick him up and throw him off the tower? No offense, but he looks kinda old."

"There is no time to deal with Saruman at the moment." Gandalf's expression darkened. "Our focus must be on the Ring. It was nearly taken by the Nazgûl during Frodo's journey here. It must be kept from the enemy's hands for as long as possible."

Quinn rested an elbow on the railing. "Couldn't we just destroy the thing and be done with it?"

"It is not that simple." He shot her a glare. "And I doubt you have thought of a solution that has not already occurred to one of us."

She held up her hands in surrender. "Okay. I got it." Gandalf usually had a fuse when dealing with her that averaged at two minutes, and she knew when to back off. "Well, if you're needing any help, you know where to find me."

She walked away, and Gandalf muttered something that probably wasn't a heartfelt expression of gratitude.

* * *

Quinn sighed and prodded the hole in her boot. She'd worn out more pairs than she could count over the years, and she would have to get these fixed soon before the hole widened and her whole sole fell off.

But that was a task for another time. She'd spent about an hour pacing after her conversation with Gandalf, trying to decide what to do next. She knew Saruman had other allies besides her, and Gandalf had said that he was gathering some great force. She didn't know exactly where he'd been hiding all that, but now she was beginning to kick herself for not looking into those gnarly pits outside Isengard.

Regardless of the details, Saruman was probably still spying on her, which meant he knew how to hurt the people she cared about. She had to find a way to deal with the wizard before something bad happened.

With a sigh, Quinn pushed herself up and started walking. She needed to find someone to talk it over with. Thinking alone had never been her strong suit.

But when she spotted a head of curly dark hair sitting on one of the benches outside, all thoughts of Saruman left her head.

"Frodo!" She ran forward and almost lifted him up, but remembered his wound at the last second. "How ya doing, buddy?"

"I'm all right," he said. She sat down, and he gave her a one-armed hug. "I'm glad you made it to Rivendell. I was worried when no one had heard from you."

"Aw, you know you don't have to worry about me." She searched his face—she hadn't missed how stiffly he'd been moving his right side. "How's the shoulder?"

"It…still hurts," he said, his smile fading slightly. "But not as much as before."

"Does it feel cold?"

He looked up at her, eyes widening slightly, and nodded.

Quinn rolled up her sleeve, revealing the white scar on her forearm. "Mine's cold, too. And it hurts, like, every year around the time that I got it."

Frodo reached out and ran his fingers along the scar. "You were cut with a Morgul blade?"

"A long time ago. Obviously, I got better. But it sucked—I literally got kicked out of my body. I'm just glad that didn't happen to you."

"So am I." Frodo lowered his hand. "And thank you for trying to protect us, back there."

Quinn shrugged and looked away. "I mean, you got stabbed, so obviously I didn't do that great of a job."

"Yes, but Sam and Merry and Pippin—they all made it here unharmed. It might not have been that way if we'd been alone."

"I guess." She rested her palms on her knees.

"Hopefully we won't have as much trouble on the way back."

She looked up. "You're going back to the Shire?"

"Yes. I might stay here a little longer, but Sam and I have talked it over. We did what we set out to do—brought the Ring to Rivendell. I'm hoping we can put all of this behind us soon."

"Makes sense." She nodded. "I mean, you've done more than enough already."

They both looked up as two people rounded the corner. Quinn raised a hand in greeting as Bilbo and Thorin came towards them, arm in arm.

"Hey, guys. Surprise family reunion, huh?"

"Yes, we were both happy to see Frodo here," Bilbo said as the two of them sat down on the bench on Frodo's other side. "Though we wish we could have received him under better circumstances."

"How is your shoulder?" Thorin asked.

"Still healing." Frodo reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm feeling all right, I promise." From his slightly exasperated smile, Quinn guessed this wasn't the first time he'd had to answer that question.

She turned her attention to Bilbo. He looked a lot older than the last time she'd seen him—the gray in his hair had been entirely replaced with white, and his movements were slower, less steady. He and Thorin had always been an affectionate couple, but she wondered now if he hadn't been holding onto the dwarf for support.

"Uncle." Frodo pointed to the book tucked under Bilbo's arm. "You should show Quinn what you've written."

"Oh, yes." He handed her the book, which was bound in a nice brown leather. "Take a look. I think you might recognize most of it."

Quinn opened the book to the first page. "_There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins._" Her mouth fell open, and she turned to him. "You wrote a book?"

"Yes. I've mentioned it to you several times, Quinn."

"Yeah, but I thought you were just, you know," she held up her fingers into a quotation marks, "writing a book."

The three of them stared at her, nonplussed, so she went back to the book.

"Wow, you have really nice handwriting." She turned the book so she could look at a detailed map of the Shire. "What happens if you make a mistake?"

"Well, you simply don't make mistakes."

"And you're fortunate enough to have a steady hand." Thorin patted Bilbo's knee.

Quinn flipped the page. "'The foolish warrior.' Wow, I wonder who that could be." She looked up. "I really want to read all of this, but I haven't read anything that's longer than a page in, like, decades and I think my concentration is shot. But this is really good work. You should be proud of it." She handed the book back to him.

"I'm glad to have your approval." Bilbo accepted the book and placed it in his lap.

"I'm assuming you've already seen Glóin and Gimli." Quinn leaned back on her hands. "There's been a lot of new arrivals today. There was that Boromir guy…and I heard Legolas got here yesterday, so I'm gonna go harass him in a little."

"Aye, Glóin brought dark tidings from Erebor," Thorin said. "An emissary came to the mountain a few months ago, asking for information about a hobbit bearing a ring. Fíli sent the man away, and bade Glóin and Gimli travel here to warn us." He grasped Bilbo's hand protectively.

"Shit." Quinn frowned. It seemed Sauron and Saruman were sending people to every corner of Middle-earth looking for the Ring, and the Nazgûl had already found Frodo three times since he'd left the Shire. It probably wasn't safe for him to go back.

"A council has been called to decide what to do about the Ring, and the increased threats from Mordor," Thorin continued. "This is something that concerns all the peoples of Middle-earth. And none can stand idly by while we decide what to do."

"Yeah." Her hand tightened into a fist. "Yeah, someone's gonna have to answer for this."

Her friends were in danger. Frodo had already been almost killed. Whatever was about to happen, they were getting close to the center of it.

And Quinn was not going to stand by and let anyone else get hurt.

**Just turning this into an endnotes section because I have a lot of thoughts about this chapter:**

**1\. I get why Tolkien called this section Many Meetings, Jesus Christ. I feel like everyone's getting at least five introductions/reunions in the next few chapters.**

**2\. I've been kind of playing around with Toven's dialogue; he speaks like a regular man of Middle-earth, but I like to think he's picked up a couple phrases from Quinn. I hope it's not too jarring for you guys.**

**3\. I know Boromir also makes the "You are no elf" comment to Aragorn, my crackhead self gets amused by the thought of Boromir walking around Rivendell perpetually surprised by the sudden racial diversity.**

**4\. I find it kind of funny how for a lot of OCs Gandalf usually acts as a mentor, calls them all "my dear," etc, and with Quinn he's like "If you were on fire and I had a bucket of water I would drink it."**

**5\. Kinda realized Thorin is really just here to be the trophy husband, he has no bearing on the plot and I feel a little bad for not giving him a bigger role in this series…but basically all my other fics revolve around him so it's fine.**


	6. The Wisdom of the Wind

**Chapter 6: The Wisdom of the Wind**

"Are you bored?"

Toven was silent for a long moment. "I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"There's something strange about this place. I feel…at peace, but not restless. It's hard to tell how much time has passed."

"I totally get that." Quinn rolled onto her stomach. The two of them were lying on the grass next to a flowerbed, listening to the gentle flow of the stream nearby. "Sometimes I'll drop by here just to say hi, and next thing I know, two weeks have gone by. It's kinda creepy."

"Well, I do know they're holding a feast tonight, to celebrate Frodo's recovery."

"Mhm. But they don't do it like Erebor. Mostly they just eat food and talk. Even in Mirkwood everyone gets at least tipsy."

"They're going to be performing. I've heard some of the elves practicing songs and poems."

Quinn perked up. "Should I perform something?"

Toven cringed. "If you do, let me know in advance so I can get sufficiently drunk."

She nudged his shoulder. "You can perform with me. You still have that flute, right?"

"Yes…"

"I promise I'm not gonna do anything too out of left field. What do elves like? Ballads?"

Toven snorted. "Do you even know any ballads?"

"Luigi's Ballad." She rubbed her chin. "I still remember most of 6969. That's got enough of a plot to be considered a ballad."

"I'm surprised Elrond hasn't banned you from Rivendell yet."

"You know what, he's definitely implied that I'm not welcome here, several times. Once I tried to trick him into giving me a lifetime ban, so I could be like 'Ha, it doesn't apply anymore because I'm dead…'" She looked up as an elf passed the grassy patch where they were sitting. "Oh. H-Hey, Arwen."

"Hello, Quinn, Toven." She nodded to both of them. "Enjoying the sunshine?"

"Yeah." Quinn shifted her weight on her elbows. "By the way, that was some nice riding you did back there. You're, uh, really good at that."

Arwen smiled. "Thank you. Will I see you at the feast tonight?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah, for sure. And I guess I'll see you." She did finger guns as Arwen walked away. As soon as she was gone, Quinn hung her head. "Ugh." She put a hand over her eyes. "_Nice riding?_ I'm such an idiot." She raised her head to see Toven regarding her with raised eyebrows. "What?"

"You are aware that she's with Aragorn."

"Oh, of course. Believe me, I wouldn't dream of getting in the middle of that. Unless they wanted me to." She tilted her head. "Maybe I should sing Peppermint Creams tonight."

Toven tilted his head back. "Please don't talk about this anymore."

"You gotta admit though, Arwen is…super hot. I think everyone is at least a little bit in love with her."

"Speak for yourself."

Quinn glanced at him. "Really?"

Toven shrugged. "She is beautiful. I don't think anyone could deny that. But that's all I see."

She nodded. "Gotcha."

"I'm changing the subject." Toven sat up. "What are you planning to do with that blade you took from the Nazgûl?"

"You still have it?" Quinn sat up as well and turned to face him.

He nodded. "It's in my room. A little hard to sleep with the thing, knowing what it can do."

"Yeah." She lowered her gaze. "Believe me, I know. I guess I grabbed it as a sort of…contingency plan."

He rested an elbow on his knee. "Well, this must be important because you rarely have those."

"I just thought, now that the Nazgûl are active again, I'll probably end up facing them again. And you know about my invisible friend." She waved a hand. "Your…step-parent, I guess?"

Toven nodded. "I disagree with the title, but go on."

She'd explained her strange situation to him the best she could, and he'd accepted it with surprisingly little shock. "Well, there's a chance we'll end up switching again. And since I have no idea when it's going to happen, that might be the last chance we have to speak."

He straightened. "You want me to use the blade to try and bring you back."

"I mean, at least be smart about it." She fixed him with her most convincing glare. "Do not, under any circumstances, try to fight Belekur directly. You will get your ass beat, and probably die."

"Wait, they can hear everything we're saying, right?"

"Yeah, but there's no way around that. I-I just wanted to have a chance to…"

"To what?"

She sighed and lowered her gaze. They were straying into emotional territory, which was really not her thing. "You know…say goodbye."

"What?"

"As far as I know, I'm only supposed to be here until Belekur's mission is completed. And I have a feeling, now that this whole Ring business has been uncovered, that that might be coming soon."

Toven studied her face with a frown. "And afterwards?"

They'd both discussed this before, but it had been a while since she'd even thought about it. Quinn spread her hands. "I have no idea. I really have no clue, but once this thing is up I might just…disappear or something."

"I see," he said lowly.

She let out a long sigh. "I've had so many friends just grow old and die over the years. It's gotten to the point where it's easier to accept." She looked up at him. "But I really don't want to cut things short with you."

Toven reached out and took both her hands. "Nothing's certain yet. And whatever evil is out there is a long way from being defeated. Let's not say our goodbyes now."

"Yeah." Her shoulders sagged in relief. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

* * *

"Well, now, this comes as a surprise."

Quinn watched glumly as plates of bread and meat and platters of vegetables were placed on the tables. They were all seated in a long hall illuminated by glowing lanterns, and the air was filled with quiet conversation. She turned to Glóin, who had spoken. "What's a surprise?"

He began piling his plate with bread and meat. "Well, I still remember the last time I was in Rivendell. The elves hosted us for dinner then, and the only thing it seemed they could procure was vegetables. Nothing but green on all our plates. Just lettuce and onions and…those wee red things."

"Radishes," Bilbo supplied. "You know, you could stand to have some more vegetables in your diet. It's done wonders for Thorin's health." He patted the dwarf's shoulder as he spooned a generous helping of vegetables onto his plate.

Glóin eyed the cucumbers like they were slugs. "Aye, well, in any case… It seems they've managed to procure some _real_ food for tonight."

An elf passed by, filling everyone's goblet with wine, and Quinn suppressed a groan. She usually tried to stay away from mealtimes, since not being able to eat or drink really bummed her out, but she'd made an exception for tonight so she could catch up with her friends.

She nudged her goblet towards Gimli, who was sitting on her right. "You can have mine."

He nodded and happily added the drink to his own, which filled it to nearly overflowing.

"So…" She drummed her fingers on the table, trying to think about something else. "Catch me up. What's going on in Erebor?"

It had been several years since she'd last been there—she'd been busy on the western side of the Misty Mountains, and hadn't really made time to journey east.

"More or less the same since you left," Gimli said. "We've just about finished up the new cart system, so it's quicker to get around."

"Oh, nice. I'll have to check that out sometime."

If she ever got the chance.

Quinn lowered her gaze and poked at the tablecloth. _I could really use a drink right now_.

"We've still not heard from Balin's company," Glóin said, and Thorin's expression darkened.

"What, the guys in Moria?" She looked up and leaned her elbows on the table. "It's been several years, hasn't it?"

"Only five," Gimli said. "But last we heard, they had taken many of the eastern halls. It is possible they are spending most of their efforts on fortifying what they've taken back."

Behind Gimli, Thorin and Glóin exchanged a less-than-optimistic look. Five years still seemed like a pretty long time to Quinn. But she only tapped her fork against her empty plate and said, "Uh, yeah. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"Anyway," Bilbo said, "I hope you two will come to the Hall of Fire after the feast. I'm working on a poem, which I think you will quite like…"

They started to talk about poetry, and Quinn let herself zone out. She could count on two hands how many English classes she'd failed in her old life. Before long, everyone stood up and began trickling out of the room. Quinn followed Bilbo and Glóin outside as they debated over some Khuzdul poem.

They began walking along a winding path lined with flowers and vines twisting across wooden archways. Quinn spotted a familiar blond head walking ahead of them and excused herself.

"You've been avoiding me, haven't you?" She slung an arm around Legolas's shoulders from behind, though he didn't appear surprised—he'd probably heard her coming.

"Not at all," he said, raising his eyebrows into a guileless expression. "It just seems we've never been in the same place at the same time."

"For a whole week? Bullshit."

"Well, it seems we've finally crossed paths." Legolas carefully removed her arm from his shoulders. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good." She smiled. Legolas had loosened up a lot since he'd stopped spending so much time around his dad. "And what about you? Last time I saw you, you were heading back to Mirkwood."

"And I was met by ill news, unfortunately. But this is not the time to speak of such things."

"Damn, everyone's coming here with ill news." Quinn rolled her shoulders. "Definitely not the kind of talk for a feast."

They passed through a wide doorway and into the Hall of Fire. There were tall, open arches on either side that let the cool night air filter through. The center of the room was slightly sunken, with steps leading down to a collection of cushions and chairs. At the other end was an enormous fireplace that lit the hall with flickering orange light.

"Wow," Quinn said. Every time she came to Rivendell, it seemed she found something new—and the place wasn't even that big. "Do you think they ever accidentally catch..." She turned to the side, but Legolas had disappeared. "He is such an asshole."

She found Toven sitting on the steps near the back of the room, watching a group of elves tune their instruments. He looked up as she sat next to him.

"Hey, I missed you at the feast. You didn't want to talk with the dwarves?"

"I've already had an opportunity to catch up with them," he said. "I had some things to discuss with Aragorn."

"I think you like him better than me."

"Well, he certainly wouldn't try to embarrass me in a hall full of elves."

"Oh, relax." She nudged him with her shoulder. "I was kidding about singing in front of everyone. I would have to be _pretty_ drunk for that, and as you know…"

Toven nodded. "Thank you. That's very reassuring."

Her eyes fell to the piece of paper tucked in one hand. "What is that?"

"It's nothing." When she tried to grab it, Toven held the paper out of her reach. "I swear if you try and take this from me, I will throw it in the fire."

She leaned closer. "I'm gonna start guessing…"

He shot her a deadpan glare. "It's a poem, all right?" He looked away. "Bilbo helped me with it. I was thinking about reading it aloud tonight."

"Oh." Quinn sat back. "Well, in that case, I'll clap really loud after you're done."

He shook his head. "I don't know. Nothing I write could ever compare to them." He gestured to the elves milling about the hall. Several had gathered around an elf in a purple robe who was reciting something in Elvish. "They've had thousands of years to perfect the craft."

"Well, that doesn't mean your stuff isn't good. You remember what I told you?"

"You've told me lots of things over the years."

"You'll never shine if you don't glow." Quinn pointed a finger at him. "If you want to be successful, you gotta start small."

A smile twitched onto his face. "That is…sound advice, actually."

"From the endless wisdom of Smash Mouth." She pressed her palms together. "All that glitters is gold. And only shooting stars break the mold."

"I believe the correct phrasing is, 'All that is gold does not glitter,'" said a voice from behind them.

Quinn raised her eyebrows as Aragorn sat down on Toven's other side. "Uh, no dude. I'm pretty sure my version is correct."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "You should know I am good friends with the author of those words."

Toven groaned and put his face in his hands. "You two had this argument the last time you met."

She spread her hands. "And I clearly remember that I was right!" One of the elves shushed her. "All that glitters is gold," she hissed at Aragorn, then stood up and left.

She found Merry and Pippin playing cards in one of the corners near the entrance. She'd spent a lot of time with them since arriving in Rivendell, but she was in a festive mood tonight, and she had something special in mind.

"Hey." She crouched down next to them. "You guys wanna go smoke?"

Pippin brightened immediately. "You have more?"

She smiled. "I do."

Merry glanced around the hall, then swept up the cards they'd laid out on the floor. "Well, I don't think we'll be missed."

They crept outside and into one of the gardens below the hall. They sat down on the soft earth, partially obscured by the branches of some fragrant bushes. Quinn reached into the inner pocket of her shirt and retrieved a pouch. She'd paid good money for a decent, waterproof leather pouch. Inside that was another waterproof pouch, for extra protection, and tucked within—precious weed.

Quinn handed the pouch to Merry, who had taken out his pipe. It had taken her a good fifty years to find some real marijuana in Middle-earth—she wasn't a fan of the tobacco that most of her friends smoked. She'd stumbled on a strange guy named Tom in the woods outside the Shire, and she stopped by every few years to get some more.

She sighed as Merry lit his pipe. She couldn't actually smoke herself, being dead and all, but the best she could get was to enjoy the smell and reminisce on the good old days.

"What are you three doing out here?"

They turned to see Sam standing outside the bushes, his hands on his hips. Frodo was next to him, as usual.

Quinn waved for them to come closer. "We're smoking. You guys wanna join in?"

Sam approached them with a small frown on his face. "Why are you hiding in the bushes?"

She exchanged a glance with Merry and Pippin, and the three of them shrugged. "We're not hiding, we're just in the bushes."

Merry passed the pipe to Pippin. "You're welcome to join us. There's plenty to go around."

Frodo sat down cross-legged next to Merry. "Pippin, did you forget your pipe? I thought you went everywhere with it."

"We usually share one," Merry said. "You don't want to smoke a whole pipe by yourself."

"I did once," Pippin said.

"Yeah, and then you threw up." Quinn leaned back on her hands.

Sam finally caved and sat down next to Frodo. "All right, then. Is this some special kind of pipeweed?"

"It's very special," Merry said with a smirk.

"Yeah, just sit back and relax," Quinn said. "It's gonna make you feel a little weird, but I promise it's safe."

They sat in silence for a while, the hobbits passing the pipe between the four of them. Quinn lay back and propped her hands behind her head. The bushes rustled above her, and faint strains of elvish music drifted out of the hall.

"I can see it," Frodo said softly. He was lying back as well, his eyes closed and his hands folded over his stomach.

"See what?" Sam asked.

"The music… It's like a mist…a river of gold and silver flowing over me."

Quinn closed her eyes and pretended she could see the river too.

* * *

The small pavilion normally reserved for meals had been cleared away, the tables and benches replaced by a semicircle of high-backed chairs. Opposite from the semicircle was another tall chair, taken by Lord Elrond, and a stone pedestal in the center.

Toven looked around as he found an empty seat next to Aragorn. Most of the members of this council were elves, several of whom he did not recognize. They were all seated in a row, next to a trio of dwarves—Glóin, Gimli, and Thorin. Glóin was resolutely ignoring the dark-haired elf seated next to him, and Toven hoped things would not escalate beyond that. Boromir was sitting a few chairs down from Toven, and on the other side of the semicircle were Frodo and Gandalf.

He glanced around again as everyone began to settle down. "I don't see Quinn."

"I would guess that Lord Elrond has not invited her," Aragorn replied.

His lips twitched. He could see why—Quinn had the tendency to derail even the gravest of conversations. "She's not going to be happy about that."

Aragorn glanced at him. "I'm sure you can give her a summary once this is over."

There was no time for more conversation as Elrond stood and addressed the council.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it." He swept a piercing glance across the pavilion. "You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." He turned to his left. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Frodo stood and made his way to the pedestal. He took something from his pocket and placed it on the stone—a small golden ring. A murmur went up from the council.

"So it is true," Boromir muttered.

Frodo sat back in his chair with a small sigh. Toven kept his eyes on the Ring, and felt a ghost of a whisper pass along the back of his neck.

Boromir got to his feet. "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the west, a pale light lingered." He took a step closer to the pedestal. "A voice was crying: _Your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found._" He drifted closer yet, one hand straying towards the ring.

"Boromir!" Elrond cried, standing up in one swift motion, but the word was nearly drowned out by a booming voice that filled the courtyard.

Gandalf had risen to his feet, and spoke an unfamiliar language with harsh syllables that sent an oily shiver through the air. After a long moment, he fell silent, and light filtered through the trees once more—Toven hadn't realized that it had disappeared.

The council fell silent. Boromir had taken a step back, and stared at the wizard with wide eyes.

Toven took a soft, calming breath. _Off to a bad start, it seems_.

Elrond turned a sharp glance towards Gandalf. "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris."

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond," Gandalf said as the elf sank back into his chair, "for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" He swept a thunderous look around the courtyard, before finally fixing his eyes on Boromir. "The Ring is altogether evil."

Boromir shook his head. "It is a gift—a gift to the foes of Mordor." He looked around. "Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay." His expression darkened. "By the blood of _our_ people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy. Let us use it against him."

"You cannot wield it," Aragorn said. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir turned to face him. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?"

A blond elf stood and took a step towards him. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He met Boromir's gaze with a piercing stare. "You owe him your allegiance."

Once again, Boromir looked at Aragorn, but there was no reverence on his face. "Aragorn? _This_ is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," the elf said.

Toven turned to look at Aragorn, as did several others. Aragorn's expression was unreadable, but he'd leaned back in his chair slightly, and Toven had known him long enough to see that he was uncomfortable with the attention.

He'd known Aragorn for years, and considered the man to be a mentor and a friend. He'd known that Aragorn was one of the Dúnedain, but this piece of information was new. Toven resolved to ask him about it later, since now clearly wasn't the time.

After a few more seconds of silence, Aragorn lifted a hand. "_Havo dad,_ Legolas."

Boromir was still frowning at Aragorn. "Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king." He returned to his seat, his expression clouded.

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf said, changing the subject. "We cannot use the Ring for our own purposes."

"You have only one choice," Elrond said. "It must be destroyed."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Gimli stood, grabbing his axe, which was resting on the chair beside him.

"Gimli," Thorin warned, but the younger dwarf was already moving.

He stepped forward and brought his axe down on the Ring with enough force to cleave it in two. Elrond rose partially from his seat, and Frodo flinched back as though the strike had been aimed at him.

A small explosion burst from the pedestal, and Gimli fell back with a cry. Toven leaned forward in his chair, but the Ring remained intact, surrounded by the smoking shards of the axe.

_Of course, that would have been too easy_.

Glóin rushed to help Gimli to his feet, but it seemed that his pride had been damaged more than anything.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess," Elrond said, arching an eyebrow. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." He looked around at the council. "One of you must do this."

"One does not simply walk into Mordor," Boromir said, frowning. "Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

_I know someone who could_. Whatever dangers lurked in Mordor, they would be far less lethal to Quinn. If asked, she would take that Ring into the fire, and she would do it with a smile on her face.

But Toven, selfishly, said nothing. He would never want her to be the one to carry that burden.

Legolas leapt from his chair again. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" Gimli snapped.

Boromir rose, ignoring him. "And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

Gimli stood, his gaze still on Legolas—it seemed as though he and Boromir were having two separate conversations. "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!"

Several of Legolas's companions rose to their feet, and Glóin went to flank his son, Thorin right behind him. Elves and dwarves began shouting at one another—Gandalf tried to speak over them—and Boromir stepped forward to add his own opinion.

Toven leaned closer to Aragorn. "Do you think we're going to make any progress in this meeting?"

"For the sake of Middle-earth, you should hope that we do," he responded.

He lowered his gaze. Distractible as she was, Quinn had a knack for finding simple solutions to things. "If she were here, she would have already volunteered to take it."

Aragorn glanced at him. "Your mother has a good heart, but perhaps it's best that we do not entrust the fate of this land with her."

A high voice cut through the chaos: "I will take it!"

Frodo had stood up, barely visible among the taller members of the council.

"I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor."

The crowd fell silent, and everyone turned to look at him.

"No." Toven made to push himself out of his chair, but Aragorn stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"This is a heavy burden," Elrond said. "So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, then you will have my support."

"I do," Frodo said as a murmur shuddered through the crowd. "Though I do not know the way."

Gandalf rested a hand on his shoulder. "You will need a guide—or possibly several. You will not have to do this alone, that I can promise."

Elrond nodded. "There is time for preparations to be made. We need not discuss it today."

Everyone shifted again—the council was over. Frodo stepped forward and took the Ring from the pedestal, slipping it back into his pocket.

And Toven stayed where he was, struck by a sudden, heavy sense of injustice.

**More footnotes:**

**1\. Luigi's Ballad is a real song by Starbomb. 6969 and Peppermint Creams are by NSP. They're kind of a small band so I really just put those references in to make myself laugh.**

**2\. Slight contradiction in the lore that I found…I was doing some research on Moria and found that Balin and Co died in Moria about twenty four years before this chapter takes place. But Gimli's wiki says it had only been five years since Erebor had last received word from the Moria group. Not really sure about that discrepancy so I decided to go with the smaller figure to make Gimli seem like…less delusional about his denial. If anyone has an explanation for this or different information, let me know!**

**3\. It has been on my mental checklist since the beginning to get Quinn to quote All Star. I'm so glad I could fit it into this chapter. And just a quick reference since this wasn't in the movie: the line Aragorn is talking about is from a poem Bilbo wrote about him. I realized the first line was similar to All Star and just had to put this conversation in.**

**4\. Tried to stick to the movie version of the Council since the book chapter has even ****_more _****exposition and I figured that wasn't going to be fun for anyone. I only altered the ending because I figured it would fit better. I apologize to anyone who has already read this scene 15 times in other fics, there are just a lot of moving parts and I was trying to preserve my mental energy by keeping it close to the original.**


	7. Son of Twilight

**Chapter 7: Son of Twilight**

Quinn stayed perfectly still, her hand outstretched just above the ground. She watched as the squirrel bounded a little closer, its tiny nose twitching at the smell of the seeds in her palm. It looked up at the sound of footsteps, and scampered away.

She sighed and turned around. "Oh, come on. I was just about to—" She stopped at the expression on Toven's face. "Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen?" She brushed the seeds from her hand and stood up.

"They chose Frodo," he said, his jaw tight. "They chose him to take the Ring to Mordor."

"Wait, what? When? Just now?"

"Yes, just now. There was a council—"

"That was today?" Her words bounced off the open-air hallway, but she didn't bother to lower her voice. "Why the hell did nobody tell me?"

"Lord Elrond didn't want you there, so he didn't invite you." Toven spread his hands as if that was obvious. "But that's not the point. Frodo—"

Her anger about the council evaporated as her brain caught up with the other thing he'd said. "Wait, Frodo's going _where_?"

"I just told you, but you keep interrupting me!"

They were both shouting at each other by now. Quinn spotted two elves staring at them from a nearby footpath. She clenched both of her fists, then released them.

"Okay," she said with forced calm. "Do you wanna go spar for a few minutes?"

"Fine." Toven started towards the training grounds without another word.

Quinn hurried to catch up with him. "Tell me what happened."

While they walked, he gave her the quick version of what had been discussed during the council. By the time he reached the part about Frodo volunteering himself, they'd reached the courtyard reserved for weapons practice.

"So let me get this straight." Quinn took a training sword from the rack to one side. "Frodo volunteered out loud to take a creepy evil ring into this world's version of hell and drop it into an active volcano, and no one told him it was a bad idea?"

"In so many words." Toven picked up his own sword.

"Who else was at the council?" She readied herself as he came at her.

Toven rattled off a list of names, each punctuated by a strike from his sword. He was clearly angry, and it was making his movements clumsy, but she limited herself to parrying his blows.

Quinn made a face and twisted away from a vertical strike. "That's, like, everyone in Rivendell."

"Not everyone."

"Yeah, well, it still pisses me off." She went on the offensive, pushing her sword against his and slashing at his chest. "Because, you know, when everyone's deciding what to do about the fate of the world and it's kind of my job to see that through, I should probably be there to discuss it. _Especially_ if one of my friends who got stabbed in the shoulder for _no reason_ has to volunteer to deal with it. I thought he said he wanted to go home!"

Something in Toven's expression darkened, and his steps faltered. Quinn pushed her shoulder against his chest, making him stumble back.

She stopped and lowered her sword. "What's got _you _pissed off?"

He sighed and shoved a lock of hair out of his face. "Well, I'm pissed off that Frodo was chosen to do this. I'm pissed off that he's gotten hurt, and he'll probably get hurt again before this is all over. I'm pissed off that no one besides him was willing to do it." He looked away, his expression crumpling. "That I was too much of a coward to volunteer myself."

Quinn snorted. "Seriously? I wouldn't have let you do that anyway."

He glared at her. "You wouldn't have let me?"

"Hell no." She raised her sword as he moved to attack again. "I'm not letting Frodo take that thing, and there's no way I'm letting you even touch it. You guys are way too…squishy for a place like Mordor. Hell, I'll take the stupid thing if I have to."

Toven ducked under her horizontal swing and rammed the butt of his sword into her ribs, right into the broken ones.

Quinn hissed in pain and clapped a hand over the area. "_Ow_. Dude, what the hell?"

"You are not invincible," he said. "Don't pretend that you are." His jaw trembled, like he wanted to say something else, but he only let his sword clatter to the ground and walked away.

_Well, you blew that one, Quinn_. She sat down with a sigh and redid her boot lace, which had come undone. She was back in her normal shirt and pants, but she'd forgone her armor, and now her ribs were paying for it.

"What a fucking cheap shot," she muttered. "I'm getting him back for that. Fucking ridiculous…" She tucked her lace inside her boot so it wouldn't come untied again. "I'll take the Ring and catapult myself into Mordor if I have to."

"I would caution you against that."

She looked up as Aragorn entered the courtyard. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." He moved closer and clasped his hands in front of him. "You should know it is dangerous to desire the Ring. It takes more strength to refuse it."

Quinn straightened her pant leg and stood up. "That doesn't make any sense. Only one person at the council volunteered to take it. But…I might have my information wrong, since I wasn't invited."

Aragorn ignored the jab. "Most who attended know its power. The Ring seeks to twist the minds of all who come near it, to create discord between brothers and friends. Frodo alone does not seek the power it promises, and would be able to resist its will longer than any of us."

She crossed her arms. "You sure about that? I don't think I'd end up becoming some crazy dictator or anything."

He held her gaze. As far as she knew, they'd lived in Middle-earth for about the same amount of time, but there was something in his eyes that made him seem so much older. "Everyone has weaknesses, desires that can be exploited. You would do anything to protect Toven."

"Of course."

"Even things you told yourself you would never do."

She froze, her fingers mid-tap against her bicep. Her gaze dropped to the floor. "Yeah." Thinking about it still made her a little sick. "I, uh, killed some guys, about twenty years ago," she said softly. "Protecting him. And I would do it again, but…I-I just thought for so long that I would never have to." She lifted her head and put her hands up in surrender. "Alright, point taken. Not even gonna think about that stupid ring."

"You can still do something. Go with Frodo, protect him with your life."

Quinn put her hands on her hips. "Of course I'm going with him. I'll carry him on my back and Naruto run into Mordor if I have to. And I'm guessing you're going too?"

"I am." He paused. "Toven will want to join you. I think you should let him."

"You mean he'll want to join _you_." A small smile twisted her lips. "He really looks up to you, you know."

Something like doubt flashed over Aragorn's face. "I would not ask him to do this."

"Yeah, well…" She sighed and stepped closer. "Look, I know I can't control him or tell him what to do anymore. But you and me…we gotta look out for him, yeah?"

Aragorn nodded slowly, looking just as uncertain as she felt. Quinn clapped him on the shoulder and left the courtyard.

* * *

Quinn was sitting against the window in Rivendell's library, trying to read before the sun set and it got too dark to make out the letters on the page.

"God, this does not give me any useful information." She rubbed her forehead. "And this font is _so_ fucking tiny."

She flipped to the next page and ran her fingers over an illustration of a sharp-featured warrior cutting down a pair of orcs.

"Hmm. That does not look like us at all. They got the nose wrong." She glanced up at Belekur. They were staring out the window, arms crossed. Quinn flipped the book shut. "I don't even know why I'm reading this thing when I could just ask you."

"And what is it you want to ask?" they replied in their usual cold tone.

"What happened, the last time you were here? I mean, once you got sent back to your world. Did you just disappear, did a portal open up, did you jump on a shooting star and fly into the sunset?"

"What does it matter? When my mission is complete, I will leave this world."

"But do you know that for sure?" Quinn set the book aside and rested her forearms on her knees. "Did any ancient warriors ever come back after they…died?"

Belekur turned away and said nothing. Quinn had figured out over the years that silence usually meant they didn't know the answer to something…or they were just annoyed with her and didn't want to respond.

"Come on, you gotta give me something here." She stood up and walked around them so they were facing each other. "Whatever happens at the end of this, we're in it together. And I think you and I both know that when that ring gets destroyed, that's gonna be the end. It has to be."

"I ask again: what does it matter? Our fate is already set, and there is nothing you can do to change it."

"Well, I want to prepare myself." She spread her hands. "Because I actually care what happens to everyone after I leave. I just wanna know whether I'll be able to go get milkshakes with everyone after the baddie gets defeated, or whether I gotta start figuring out whether I'm gonna leave the rest of my weed to Merry or Pippin."

"That is none of my concern," Belekur said. "Our partnership only extends so far as what it will take to vanquish the evil from this land."

"Okay." Quinn crossed her arms. "Here's something that does concern you: let's say we get sent back to your world. What are they gonna do to you? To us?"

"My choice will be the same as it has always been." Belekur's face was unreadable as ever. Quinn sometimes wondered if the anger she saw in their eyes was just something she was making up. "I will die, or I will continue fighting."

"And let me guess: you don't give a shit what happens to me." She turned away without waiting for an answer. "Well, I guess you are right about part of it. Can't really do anything about it now."

She walked out of the library. Maybe she would go see what Merry and Pippin were up to. She needed some real human interaction—or hobbit interaction, technically.

She spotted Aragorn and Toven in the entrance courtyard, saddling up a couple of horses. They were both geared up for travel.

"Hey." She walked down the stairs to meet them. "Where are you two going?"

"South," Aragorn replied, while Toven busied himself with his saddlebag. "Lord Elrond is sending out scouts to look for any danger before the Ring is moved."

"You think the wraiths might still be out there?"

"Perhaps. But Sauron has other agents to do his bidding."

"I'd better come with you, just in case. I'm, uh, kind of a wraith expert around these parts."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "If I'm not mistaken, you failed to track down the six wraiths that were washed down the Bruinen."

"That's…correct." Quinn averted her eyes. "But I do have a weapon that insta-kills them." She patted her hip, then realized there was nothing there. "I actually have to go get my sword. Can I meet you guys here in fifteen?"

Aragorn nodded, still looking unimpressed, while Toven continued to not look at her.

Quinn jogged back to her room and donned her armor. She made a brief stop by the stables to grab her own horse, and Daeron, the elf who usually took care of the stables, gave her a warning look.

"I expect this one to be returned in a timely manner."

"Oh, for sure." She put a hand over her heart. "On my honor. You'll get your horse back."

He frowned at her, but said nothing else.

She took the horse by the reins and began leading it towards the entrance. "You got a name?" The horse snorted. "Well, you're Epona now."

Thankfully, Aragorn and Toven were still waiting when she returned. The former glanced at her saddle. "You have no supplies."

"Don't need 'em," she said. "I'm all ready, so let's get this show on the road."

Aragorn decided not to question her further, and led the way out of the courtyard.

They took the stony path down to the river, where they would cross and then take the road out of the valley. Quinn took up the rear, lost in thought until Toven fell back to walk next to her.

"Are you coming with us so you can keep an eye on me?"

"Yeah, but…" Quinn hissed in mock irritation. "I forgot the kiddie leash so I can yank you out of danger whenever we run into enemies. Should I go back and get it?"

He gave her a dry look, then some of his exasperation faded. "I shouldn't have struck you like that, back there."

"I forgive you." She slung an arm around his shoulders. "But next time, I'm making you put my gnarly rib pieces back into place."

He grimaced. "All right, you've deterred me."

"Good." She squeezed his shoulders, then released him. "Let's not worry about the Ring stuff for now, okay? We can talk when we get back."

Toven hummed in agreement. "It should be at least a couple of months before we will have to make a move. Lord Elrond plans to be quite thorough with this."

"Then it's a good thing the three of us are on the job. Should we make a name out of our initials, or something?"

"Perhaps Aragorn can recruit you as an honorary ranger."

Aragorn, who had been pretending not to hear them up until this point, glanced back at them. "I'm not sure you would meet the requirements."

Quinn flipped him off. "All right. We can just call this a family camping trip, then."

Toven sighed. "Then again, if you were to get lost in the woods and we weren't able to find you…"

"If I end up dying for real somehow, you have to cremate my body and put the ashes in one of Gandalf's fireworks."

Toven snorted. "So you would die as you lived."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Being a minor inconvenience to a wizard."

"That's not fair. I've been way more than a minor inconvenience to Gandalf. That's gotta be why he hates me so much. It can't be my personality."

"No." Toven smiled. "Of course not."

He patted her on the back, and the two of them went to catch up with Aragorn.

* * *

They found no sign of the wraiths, save for a tattered black cloak caught on a river rock. At the confluence of the Mitheithel and the Bruinen, Aragorn found evidence of wild wolves gathering, and the three of them set to following their trail. It took them three weeks from there to reach the ruined city of Tharbad.

Toven gazed at the low shapes on either side of the river. Night was falling, and already a low, eerie fog had settled over the water.

"We'll search the north side of the city, then the south," Aragorn said. "Someone may have used this crossing recently."

"Roger that," Quinn said. She was taking up the rear again, as she had a tendency to disrupt trails before either of them could find it. She'd fallen back without complaint once Aragorn had pointed it out to her. She was always at ease with her own shortcomings, and Toven wasn't sure whether to envy that or not.

They left their horses at the edge of the city, with enough room to graze while they were gone. The outer wall was crumbling and worn down, and it was easy enough to pass through a gap in the stone.

The interior smelled damp. Most of the buildings had crumbled, taken over by age or creeping vines. Small, stagnant pools of water were scattered about the street.

Quinn whistled lowly. "Looks like the apocalypse came early here. What happened?"

"The city was destroyed by a flood, nearly one hundred years ago," Aragorn said. He scanned the street for a moment, then started off down the center. "But it was in decline long before then."

"And who ruled this city?" Toven asked. "I doubt the Dunlendings built it, and we're far from any realm of elves or men."

"It was originally a Númenorean settlement," he replied, "but they have long since abandoned this place."

Toven frowned slightly. He hadn't had a chance yet to ask Aragorn about his lineage, but the thought had stayed with him since the council.

"You think someone might've made camp here?" Quinn asked, peering into an empty doorway. "Seems like a good place to hide."

Aragorn turned to look back at her and nodded. "It's possible." He glanced at Toven. "We'll take a look around."

Quinn flapped her arms at her sides. "I guess I'll just stand here and…not make any noise."

Toven smiled slightly. "We'll give a shout if we need that magic sword of yours."

She crossed her arms. "Everyone likes me for my sword…"

Shaking his head, Toven took the western half of the north bank, while Aragorn took the east. The city appeared silent, and he doubted he would find any enemies within, but he kept one hand close to his sword as he walked.

Nature seemed to have reclaimed this place once more. A cluster of trees had grown around what had once been the town square, and grass had grown in large patches through the cobblestone. He watched a small bird swoop down into an abandoned house.

As he was turning back to rejoin the others, a strange, low growl reached his ears. Toven stiffened and placed one hand on his sword. The noise was coming from one of the buildings near the river. Stepping carefully, he made his way towards the sound.

He reached a small building by the river. Miraculously, the rotting door was still half-attached to the frame. He sidled towards it and nudged it open with the back of one hand.

"_Brrrrr._" The beady eyes of a frog peered back at him.

Toven's shoulders lowered, and he took his hand off his sword. "As you were." He let the door swing closed.

Quinn and Aragorn were waiting for him in the main road, speaking in low tones.

"Hey," Quinn said when she caught sight of him. "I thought you fell in a pothole or something."

Toven spread his arms. "As you can see, I didn't." He turned to Aragorn. "The western side is clear."

"All right. Let's move on, then." Aragorn led the way towards the bridge that connected the two halves of the city.

It rose a good fifteen feet above the water's surface, pausing briefly at the thin island in the center of the river where a small collection of buildings stood, then continued on to the opposite bank.

It was also falling apart. Several chunks of stone had crumbled into the churning current, and there were a couple gaps that spanned the width of the bridge.

"Are you sure this thing is safe?" Quinn asked.

"Some travelers still take this bridge to reach the Greenway," Aragorn said, stepping onto the bridge.

"Not what I asked," Quinn muttered.

"Boromir must have come this way, if he was traveling from Gondor," Toven said. He turned back to Quinn. "Have you never been here before?"

She shrugged. "I guess not. I don't normally look for bridges. I just swim across whenever I reach a river." She followed him onto the bridge. "If I had a paraglider so many things would be different…"

Toven followed Aragorn's steps ahead of him. It was simple enough to avoid the cracked sections of the bridge. The first gap was only a foot wide, and easily traversed. They reached the midway point, and continued across the second part of the bridge.

He was beginning to think their luck would hold when the sound of grating stone reached his ears.

"Oh, shit," Quinn said from behind him.

He turned to see her flailing her arms as a large section of the bridge crumbled away and began sliding over the side, taking her with it.

"Quinn!" He lunged for her, but Aragorn took hold of the back of his coat, forcing him to a halt.

She and the chunk of the stone landed in the water with a loud splash. He inched towards the edge, breathing hard.

After a moment, she surfaced and waved at him. "I'm okay!"

"Can you climb back up?" Aragorn called to her.

"Yeah, I… Oh, looks like the river is carrying me away. I'll meet you guys on the other side, just go on without me."

Toven watched her start to swim for the bank, then leaned back with a sigh.

"Are you all right?" Aragorn asked.

"Yeah." He nodded. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably be in the river as well."

Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder. "Then let's get off this bridge before it starts falling apart again."

They made it to the other side without incident, and at the end of the street found a patch of mud marked with hoof prints, pointed north.

"These are weeks old," Aragorn said, kneeling down to inspect them in the fading light. "Several riders passed through here."

"Must have been the wraiths when they first rode north," Toven said. He glanced back at the river. "Their mounts must have been washed away, so where would they go afterwards?"

"I would guess they have returned to their master," Aragorn said, standing up. "For now, at least."

He could still recall the bone-chilling shriek of the wraiths, and his thoughts strayed to the blade stashed in his room. This was more than just hunting orcs or warding off bandits. As they came closer to the center of it all, Toven could no longer deny that everything was going to change once it was over.

"Why did you never tell me?" he asked. "About your…lineage?"

"It's been many years since any of my line could be called a king," Aragorn said. "I did not think it was relevant."

He scoffed lightly. "Everyone in that council seemed to think otherwise." He lifted his gaze to the ruined buildings around them. "I heard the way Boromir spoke about his kingdom, and it seems to me they need something to rally around. Preferably something that isn't imbued with evil."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "Boromir also said that Gondor does not need a king. They have endured for centuries without one, despite their trials. For now, we must focus on dealing with the Ring."

"Then I will follow your lead." Toven straightened, resting one hand on his sword. "I want to go to Mordor and see this finished."

"I know." Something softened in his gaze. "I've persuaded Quinn against stopping you."

"Not sure how you managed that," Toven said with a smile, even as a warmth appeared in his chest. "Speaking of…" He glanced back at the river. "We should probably go and see if she got stuck."

"Let's go." Aragorn set off towards the bridge, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder as he passed.

Toven lifted his gaze to the waning moon, as they walked. Everything was about to change, but some things would remain the same. And he knew, with or without a crown, he would follow Aragorn to the very end.

**I didn't anticipate this at all when I outlined this story, but I really love Aragorn and Quinn as this kind of awkward co-parenting duo, and I'm really excited to explore that further (and maybe I'm just a slut for found family stuff). But at the same time I was having a little trouble characterizing Aragorn, since in the movies he's so dramatic but at the same time so…goddamn inaccessible. Let me know if you all have any thoughts on that.**


	8. The Far Winter Sun

**Chapter 8: The Far Winter Sun**

Quinn sighed and twisted to get a better look at herself in the mirror. She frowned and rubbed a smudge off her armor with her sleeve. She'd spent most of the day cleaning and polishing everything, which was something she _never_ did, but Gimli had kept giving her judgy looks and her gear _was_ getting kind of grimy, so she figured she would get it over with before leaving Rivendell.

She, Aragorn, and Toven had returned to the valley after about a month and a half of travel to find that the rest of the Mordor group had either been chosen or volunteered. Elrond had started calling them the Fellowship of the Ring, which sounded like some kind of elite frat at a fancy college, but Quinn wasn't about to judge.

They were set to leave today, and she'd been a nervous wreck since getting back to Rivendell—hence the armor polishing. There was the fact that Sam, Merry, and Pippin had volunteered to come with Frodo, which had nearly caused Quinn to burst a blood vessel when she realized they would need to keep track of _four_ hobbits on the way. And there was the fact that she would essentially be saying goodbye for good when she stepped foot outside Rivendell.

Quinn frowned at the mirror. She doubted it was the same one she'd used when she'd first arrived in Middle-earth, but this was where she'd begun, in a sense. She was about to come full circle, and it scared her that she didn't know what was going to happen afterwards.

She sighed and strapped her sword to her waist. The others were probably getting ready to leave by now, and she didn't want to keep them waiting, in case Gandalf tried to convince them to leave without her.

She just had one more stop to make. Steeling herself, Quinn made her way to the living quarters and knocked on the door at the end of the open-air hall.

Bilbo opened the door and smiled. "Ah, Quinn, just the person I wanted to see."

She raised an eyebrow and stepped inside. "You say that every time I visit you."

"And it is always true." He seemed weirdly cheery as he went to sit in his armchair, and Quinn watched him closely as she sat on the back of the couch. "I understand you'll be leaving soon."

"Yeah." She tucked her hands in between her knees. "I thought you would've come to see us off."

"I've already said my goodbyes to Frodo." His smile flickered. "I gave him my mithril shirt, you know. He needs it far more than I do."

"Right." She leaned closer. "Are you…okay with this?"

"I…" Bilbo's facade of cheerfulness crumbled entirely. "I don't want this for him. He has an adventurous spirit, and I have always tried to nurture that, but I never wanted to see him come to harm." He sighed. "But he believes in what he's doing. It would be wrong of me to try and take that away from him."

Quinn clenched her fist as a lump grew in the back of her throat. She'd been thinking the same thing about Toven.

Bilbo stood up and walked closer, taking both her hands in his. "You'll protect him, won't you? You'll look out for Frodo?"

She let out a shaky breath. "You don't even have to ask. You know I'll keep him safe." She squeezed his hands, gently, feeling how frail he was. "We got a good team going with him. He's gonna be fine."

"Good." He released her and sat back down. "I…I do wish that this had not happened within our lifetimes. I meant to pass on a great many things to Frodo, but this burden was not one of them."

"Hey, don't go blaming yourself." She frowned at him. "Don't even start with that. This situation sucks, sure, but we're gonna get him to Mordor and back before you even realize he's gone. And then we're not gonna have to worry about this asshole Sauron ever again."

Bilbo gave her a shaky smile. "I admire your optimism, Quinn. I do hope it will be as you say."

"In my experience, things usually work out in the end. And if nothing else, I happen to make a very good meat shield." She hopped down from the couch. "I should probably go join the others." She hesitated. "This, um, is probably going to be goodbye."

"Yes," Bilbo said, and then the realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

She knelt down in front of him. "Thanks for being such a good friend. I guess you were the first person to really know me when I first got here, and…hopefully you haven't gotten tired of me yet."

"I most certainly haven't," Bilbo said, tears shining in his eyes. "And I doubt I will ever meet anyone like you, in this life or the next."

"You better not," she said, and wrapped her arms around him. Quinn waited until she was sure she wasn't going to cry, then let go.

Bilbo squeezed her hands one last time. "Goodbye, Quinn."

She managed a smile. "Bye, Bilbo."

As she left the room, she tried her best to keep it together. She still had to meet up with the others soon, and she didn't like to get weepy in front of other people anyway.

Thorin was coming down the hallway, towards her, and she paused as he approached. "Hey. I was just saying goodbye to Bilbo." She gestured to the side. "The group is, uh, leaving soon."

He stopped walking and nodded. "I know."

"And I wanted to say that I'm gonna do my best to protect Frodo." She shrugged. "If that's any reassurance to you."

Thorin tilted his head. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Quinn leaned back against the wall. "Well, I've always gotten the impression that you…I don't know, don't believe in me. You fired me from your Company, like twice, and I feel like I never got rehired." She shrugged. "Normally I don't really care what people think, but you're…" Her shoulders rose higher. "A pro at adventuring and I always wanted to get some kind of indication that I was in the Pro Adventurer Club or some kind of seal of approval because you were kind of like my first boss here and you're also the first boss I've ever had that I really respected and this is getting really weird. I'm gonna go." Face burning, she walked past him.

"Quinn."

She stopped and slowly turned around.

"You were not the warrior I expected when you first joined my Company. I won't deny that I was disappointed when I found out what you really were. Yet despite your incompetence, you saved my nephew's life at risk to your own—twice. You have always put the needs of others before your own, and that is something I can respect."

Her fingers twitched at her sides. "I'm sensing a 'but' here."

He fixed her with that intense gaze that seemed to make everyone stand up straight and listen. "Self-sacrifice is not going to save the people you care about."

"Well, I'm also working on getting better with a sword."

"Even so." Thorin's expression darkened, his gaze growing distant. "Sometimes it is not enough." He looked up at her. "No matter how much skill you gain as a warrior, you have to make peace with the fact that you cannot save everyone."

"Yeah." Quinn shifted her weight. This didn't feel like much of a pep talk—but then again, she'd been in the business long enough to know Thorin was speaking the truth. "Yeah. But I still have to try."

"I know." Thorin gave her a small, affirming nod.

She smiled. "Goodbye, Thorin. And…take care of Bilbo, okay?"

"I will."

Quinn knew she didn't really have to ask, but it made her feel better anyway. And her heart felt a little bit lighter as she continued down the hallway.

* * *

It turned out Quinn was not going to be the last one to join the others. As she made her way towards the entrance to Rivendell, she spotted Legolas ahead of her, and hurried to catch up with him.

"Hey. You all packed up?"

"I am," Legolas said, indicating his full quiver of arrows next to the bow slung over his shoulder. "Are you?"

"Got everything I need right here." She patted the sword at her hip. "I gotta admit, we have a pretty diverse group rolling out of here." She started counting on her fingers. "We have an elf, a dwarf, _four_ hobbits, three men—though I think Aragorn is a different type of man from Boromir—whatever Gandalf is supposed to be, and an ancient warrior."

"Let us hope those differences don't cause any more conflict," Legolas said with a slight scowl.

"Oh, yeah, I heard you got into a fight with Gimli during the council." She nudged his arm. "Just try to be nice to him. He's my friend."

"You should know he insulted me first."

"…I believe that. But at least try to be the better man. Or elf."

Legolas still looked unconvinced. "I promise I will not start anything."

She smiled. "I knew I could count on you."

They reached the entrance courtyard, where the others were already waiting for them. Sam was holding the reins of a brown pony, which was saddled with most of their supplies. A group of elves had come to see them off, including Arwen.

But there was still one person missing. Quinn looked around as she joined the others. "Where's Toven?" She turned to Aragorn. "Did he decide not to come?"

"I don't believe so," he replied. "Perhaps he is only delayed."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Toven walked into the courtyard with Elrond. The two were speaking in low tones, then Toven nodded and went to join the group.

"What was that about?" Quinn asked him once he'd reached them.

"Nothing important."

She narrowed her eyes. "Really?"

"If it becomes important, I'll tell you."

Quinn shrugged and looked up as Elrond began to speak.

"The ring-bearer is setting out on a quest to Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will." He gave them a small nod. "Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of elves and men and all free folk go with you." He raised a hand to his breast and extended it to them. Legolas and Aragorn returned the gesture.

_I feel like I should be throwing my hat in the air or something._ Quinn looked around as a few of the elves waved goodbye. _Saddest graduation I've ever been to, though_.

The group began to file out of the courtyard, with Frodo in the lead and Gandalf just behind him. Quinn paused in the doorway and turned to give one last look at Rivendell. Dead leaves were scattered about the courtyard, and the winter sunlight glowed above the rooftops. This had always been such a peaceful place, somewhere to rest her mind in between journeys. She hoped it would continue to give that to others.

Aragorn still lingered in the courtyard. He exchanged a long look with Arwen, who looked as if she was holding back tears.

Quinn turned away, feeling like she'd intruded on something private, and went to catch up with the others. She fell into step next to Merry and Pippin, who were walking side by side as usual.

"You two sure you're up for this?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" Pippin said. "From what Gandalf told us, it will be more walking than anything."

"That's what I thought the first time I set out on a quest," Quinn said, looking up at the valley walls. "And it turns out to be a lot more running and falling than you'd think."

"Well, we've come this far," Merry said. "And we'll stick by Frodo, no matter what."

Quinn sighed. "Well, just stay next to someone tall, and you'll probably be fine."

_I wish I had some bubble wrap right now_.

* * *

Quinn despised the cold.

Even in her past life, she hadn't liked it, and living in Los Angeles had meant she usually didn't have to worry about it.

But it was winter now, and the lands outside of Rivendell were subject to merciless, freezing winds. They weren't allowed to light fires, for the sake of secrecy. Most nights, when they stopped to rest, Quinn took to pacing just to keep some feeling in her limbs. She didn't give off heat like the others, which made the cold harder to deal with.

A particularly bitter gust swept over the rocks, and Quinn cursed under her breath. She hopped down from the small animal trail she'd been pacing and made her way back to camp.

Everyone was asleep except for Aragorn, who was keeping watch. He looked up as she sat next to him.

"Did you see anything?" he asked.

"Nah. Not even sure what I would be looking for." She rested her elbows on her knees. "Maybe sometime you can teach me how to track and be stealthy and all that other ranger stuff."

"I suppose I could." Aragorn seemed distracted, chewing on the stem of his unlit pipe as he gazed out into the night.

"Is everything okay?"

He finally glanced at her. "I'm fine."

"…Is everything okay with you and Arwen?" She picked up a stick and started fiddling with it. "I'm not trying to be nosy, but I saw her giving you some kind of look when we were leaving."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're questioning the fact that she looked at me?"

"It was a Look." She held her hands up. "Like I said, I'm not trying to be nosy. But we just started a pretty intense journey, and it's not great to be worrying about other stuff while you're doing it. That shit can really weigh you down."

Aragorn looked away. For a moment she thought he was just going to ignore her, but then he said, "I may not see her again, even if I do return to Rivendell."

She frowned. "Why?"

"The elves of this land are in decline. Most of them have already sailed to the west. Elrond plans to leave Rivendell with Arwen and join his kin."

Quinn still wasn't fully clear on what sailing to the west involved (or whether or not it was a euphemism for something else), but it seemed like a one way trip. "Does Arwen not want to stay?"

Aragorn hesitated. "I would not ask her to. If she were to stay here, with me, it would be a short time before I left her."

She twisted the stick between her fingers. "I get that. I've made a lot of friends in a lot of different places, and I've watched most of them grow old and die. One time I hooked up with this guy who could turn into a bear, and we were really good friends afterwards, and he…he passed away a few years ago." She looked at him. "It fucking sucks, dude. I'm not gonna tell you that it doesn't. But it's not like I regret any of it. I love making friends with people, and I love spending time with them. And if I was Arwen, I'd still want that time with you."

He lowered his gaze and nodded. "Thank you for saying that."

"You know, it's not too late if you want to sprint back to Rivendell and make some dramatic love confession…"

"I'm not going to do that."

"You could get a lute or something and stand below her bedroom window. I know this really romantic song called Peppermint Creams—"

"Quinn." Aragorn looked slightly more amused than annoyed. "Thank you for your advice."

She grinned. "Oh, anytime. It's usually unsolicited, not always good, but I got your back."

**What was Toven speaking with Elrond about? I guess we'll find out later… So much later that you'll probably have forgotten about this part lol. But just keep it in the back of your mind.**

**The whole pre-Moria traveling sequence is kind of open-ended, so I'm really excited to get into some pure Fellowship Antics before people start dying and everyone gets sad. I have some plans for Caradhras that I'm pretty excited about.**

**Also, I had that first scene written before I found out about Ian Holm's passing, so the timing of this is a really sad coincidence. Rest in peace Sir Ian.**


	9. The Thundering Sky

**Chapter 9: The Thundering Sky**

A week later they were blessed with some rare warm weather, and everyone's spirits lifted somewhat. Sam somehow convinced Gandalf and Aragorn to let him light a small fire so they could have some hot food for once, and the smell of cooking meat filled their camp.

Toven, along with most of the others, was taking the opportunity to rest his legs. They'd spent most of the morning climbing a steep, rocky slope before stopping at the top, and they were all grateful for a short rest. But Merry and Pippin had pestered Boromir into giving them sword fighting lessons, and this seemed this was as good a time as any.

Boromir swung his sword towards Pippin, giving him enough time to parry as he counted each strike. "Two, one, five. Good! Very good."

"Move your feet,"Aragorn reminded him.

Merry stood ready as Boromir turned towards him, giving him the opportunity to counter the same series of blows.

"Why do you count like that?" Toven asked.

Boromir paused and lowered his sword. "These are drills taught to every member of the Gondorian guard."

"Drills." He sat back. "I see."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aragorn shoot him a look, as if to say, _Don't start_, but it was too late.

Boromir turned to fully face him. "Do you have a problem with my method of fighting?"

He shrugged, feigning disinterest. He hadn't forgotten the way Boromir had spoken to Aragorn during the council. He didn't exactly dislike the man, but he'd been toying with the idea of knocking him into the dirt. "It just seems a rather…rigid way of learning."

Merry and Pippin exchanged a questioning glance.

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "And you know of a better way?"

"I suppose we'll have to find out." Toven grabbed his sword and moved down to the flat space where the three of them had been practicing. Merry and Pippin stepped out of the way. "I was taught to improvise, to learn through trial and error. I believe it's made me a fairly effective fighter."

"Let's see it, then," Boromir said as they both raised their swords.

"Fuck him up, T!" Quinn shouted from the other side of their camp.

Boromir came at him, and Toven went low, ducking beneath his horizontal swing. He brought his own sword up, but Boromir pivoted out of the way. He waited again for the other man to attack, and dodged each blow.

"Are you going to strike me?" Boromir asked, backing up a couple steps.

Toven grinned. "I'm still waiting for you to strike _me_."

He'd fought men of Boromir's stature before, and knew to rely more on his speed than strength. The idea was to expend his opponent's energy first, then go in for the kill (so to speak)—though perhaps it wasn't the best idea to get him winded with half a day's travel still ahead of them.

They circled each other for another moment, the Boromir came at him again. Toven sidestepped, but Boromir reversed his swing halfway and jabbed his elbow to the side. It caught Toven on the shoulder and made him stumble, and the flat of Boromir's boot sent him the rest of the way to the ground.

"You should know," Boromir said, lowering his sword with a small smirk, "drills were not the only thing I learned as a swordsman."

"For the Shire!" Merry jumped from a nearby rock and onto Boromir's back, making him stumble. Pippin barreled into his legs, and the three of them collapsed to the ground, laughing. Aragorn went to break the three of them up.

Toven blushed and pushed himself to his feet. It seemed he'd underestimated Boromir's skill with the sword, and overestimated his own. He picked up his sword and moved up the rocks to where the others were sitting.

"Don't worry, man." Quinn patted him on the shoulder. "You'll get him next time."

"Hopefully I won't have to, seeing as we're on the same side."

They looked downhill in time to see Merry and Pippin flip Aragorn onto his back.

"Or maybe you should worry about those two," Quinn said. "By the way, did you end up bringing that Morgul blade out here?"

"I…" Toven sighed. "No. I must have forgotten it in Rivendell." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry."

"Aw, man." She shrugged. "Well, it's too late to go back and get it. If we run into the wraiths again, I'll try to bum another one off of them."

"Right." Toven crossed his arms. He had left the blade in Rivendell—that much was true. And thankfully Quinn didn't seem to have picked up that he'd left anything out.

"What is that?" Sam stood up, peering at something to the south.

"Nothing," Gimli said. "It's just a wisp of cloud."

Toven followed their gazes and frowned. A dark shape was hovering in the sky, gradually growing closer.

"It's moving fast," Boromir said, having pulled himself and the hobbits to their feet. "And against the wind."

"Yeah, maybe if clouds were made of birds." Quinn shielded her eyes against the sun. "Oh, they are birds."

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas said.

"Hide!" Aragorn commanded, and everyone sprang into action.

Boromir sheathed his sword and ushered Merry and Pippin back into camp. Sam doused the small fire they'd lit, while Frodo grabbed their packs and shoved them under a bush. Toven spared one last look at the approaching flock of birds, then shimmied under a small gap in the rock nearby.

"Oh, shit."

He turned to see Quinn lying beneath a bush a few feet away. "What is it?" he whispered.

"I just realized my armor is shiny. What if they see it?"

With a sigh, he balled up his cloak and tossed it to her. She gave him a thumbs up and spread it over the top of the bush. Toven put his hand over his face and prayed she wasn't about to get them all caught.

The shrieking and cawing of the Crebain grew louder, and the sky darkened momentarily as a flurry of fluttering wings passed overhead. They waited until the sound had faded, then disappeared entirely.

Once the others began to move, Toven crawled out from under his hiding spot and retrieved his cloak.

"Thanks, man." Quinn stood and rolled her shoulders. "I was panicking there, for a second."

"Well, that's what you get for wearing plate on a secret mission." Toven brushed a few brambles from his cloak.

Gandalf was staring to the north, where the Crebain had disappeared. "Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched."

"That's a lot of spies." Quinn put her hands on her hips. "I wonder if he has to feed them all."

"We must take the Pass of Caradhras."

The others had packed up their belongings, and began descending the hill where they'd stopped to rest.

"I don't understand why we can't just march our way down to Isengard," Quinn said. "We beat up Saruman and he won't bother us anymore. I mean, you're also a wizard, so you could definitely take him, right?"

Gandalf muttered something under his breath and followed the others down the slope.

"Right, Gandalf?"

"I guess he has something else in mind." Toven nudged her arm. "Let's go."

Quinn spread her hands, then gave up and followed him. "You know, every once in a while I have a good idea…"

* * *

"Man, that looks gnarly as hell."

Quinn gazed up at the peak of Caradhras in the near distance. In the setting sun, the snow-covered peak looked red, like someone had spilled blood all over it. Or Kool-Aid.

"We should not forget about the wizard. Saruman remains a threat, even if your companions choose to ignore him."

Quinn turned to look at Belekur. The two of them were alone—the others were setting up camp while she walked around to get a look at the area. "Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to punt that guy from the top of his creepy tower. But I swore I would protect Frodo." She glanced down the hillside. "I can't just leave him."

"You may not have a choice." Belekur stepped closer. "Your companions will not be safe as long as the wizard is in power."

She shifted her weight. It always made her uncomfortable when Belekur made a good point. "Yeah, well…there's other things that can threaten them besides Saruman. And Gandalf says we should wait. He almost never explains things to me, but I know he must have a good reason."

"You do realize we are working towards the same end." They moved forward, blocking Quinn's path before she could walk away. "Ignoring my advice out of spite is not going to achieve a result you want."

"Okay, first of all, we don't want the same thing, because I know you don't give a shit about collateral damage." Quinn met their gaze. It was weird, like looking into a mirror and seeing an angrier, colder version of herself. "And I'm not ignoring you out of spite, I'm ignoring you out of principle. Because I know you would lead me to do something that's going to get my friends killed."

A flutter of wings sounded close by, making them both turn. A large black bird had settled on a rock a few feet away. At first Quinn thought it was one of the ravens that always hung around Erebor, but this one looked gaunt, its feathers ragged and oily-looking.

Quinn put a hand on her sword. She hadn't gotten a good look earlier, but it looked like one of the Crebain that had passed them. After their initial pass, they'd flown back south a few days ago. Maybe one of them had stayed behind and found them.

The bird only stared at her with one beady eye as she drew closer. Quinn glanced behind her. The sun was still out, just barely peeking over the horizon. She lifted her sword from its sheath, just enough for part of the blade to catch the light, and it started to glow. She let it fall back into the sheath. If the bird tried to fly away, she'd have one good shot to try and kill it.

The bird clicked its beak, then let out a squawk. It repeated the noise in a strange pattern, almost like…

Quinn narrowed her eyes and took another step forward. "Is this thing talking to me?"

She caught something that sounded like "bring," or maybe "break." The bird hopped closer, still chattering away.

An arrow went right through its chest, sending the bird backwards off the rock. Quinn jumped and turned around. "Dude!"

Legolas lowered his bow and walked towards her. "That must have been another one of Saruman's spies."

"Yeah, no shit." They walked around the rock to check on the bird. It was lying with its wings spread, already stiff.

Legolas bent to retrieve his arrow. "Did you see any more of them?"

"No, that was the only one." Quinn frowned at the bird. It had been talking to her, trying to tell her something. Maybe Saruman had been trying to contact her for whatever reason, but…

"Is something wrong?" Legolas asked.

"Uh, no." She looked away. She didn't feel like telling the others about her former partnership with the wizard, since she wasn't sure how they would take it. "We should probably get back to camp. Maybe we can eat this thing." She nudged the bird with her foot.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "If you want to cook a spy of the enemy for dinner, you can take that up with the others."

Quinn gingerly picked up the bird by one of its legs. "Ugh. Yeah, I'm leaving this up to Sam."

As they walked back to camp, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something, but she didn't quite know what. Maybe she'd try and figure it out later.

* * *

Toven winced as another frigid breeze passed over the rock. They were nearing the Pass of Caradhras, the mountain peak looming above them, and it seemed the temperature had dropped as they'd gotten closer.

Aragorn had been concerned that they would be exposed in the first stretch of the pass, which was barren and exposed to prying eyes. He'd taken Legolas and Toven with him to scout out the first mile or two, before the rest of the party proceeded.

They were walking across an open stretch of bare rock, which provided little shelter from the biting wind. Toven blew into his hands and cast another glance around the barren landscape.

"If anyone is lying in wait up here, they might already be half-frozen," he said.

Aragorn knelt down to inspect something on the ground, then stood up, apparently finding nothing of interest. "That may be true once we reach the higher slopes. But there still could be spies or scouts hiding ahead."

They'd had a close enough call with the Crebain earlier, so Toven understood why he was being cautious. They couldn't afford to be caught, especially not in a place like this.

He lifted his head to look at the mountain. "I've heard tales that Caradhras is cursed. That it brings down brutal storms upon passing travelers."

"Do you believe them?" Legolas asked, stepping up beside him. He was holding his bow at the ready, but didn't have an arrow nocked.

"I wouldn't rule it out. I think there's very little that would surprise me after some of the stuff Quinn has told me." Toven looked up at the mountain again. "But then again, it is winter. This could just be a spot for bad weather."

He glanced at Legolas. He'd been slightly intimidated by him at first—of all the races in Middle-earth, he knew the least about elves. Legolas seemed all right, though he mostly kept to himself. Toven didn't buy into most of what his dwarf friends had to say about elves, anyway.

"What do you think?" he asked Legolas.

"I'm not sure, either. Some say the forest where I grew up is cursed, or poisoned by darkness. Perhaps something similar has affected this mountain."

"Do you mean Mirkwood?" Toven asked. When Legolas nodded, he continued, "I passed through that forest, once. But I was too young to remember much of it."

Legolas nodded, his eyes on the landscape around them. Toven wondered if he was avoiding eye contact, or if he wasn't that invested in the conversation. "It is no place for children."

"Well, for what it's worth…I'm sorry that your home has been affected that way."

Legolas finally looked at him, but only with a mild raise of his brows. If one thing was true, it seemed elves were less emotive than dwarves. "There's a snowstorm brewing," he said eventually, turning back to the mountain. "Whatever is causing it, making it through the pass will be difficult."

Toven nodded, accepting the change in subject. He hoped he hadn't crossed some sort of boundary—he hardly knew the elf, anyway. "We might get snowed in." He turned to Aragorn, who had taken the lead again. "Is this our only way through the mountains?"

"It's a lesser risk than taking the Gap of Rohan," Aragorn replied. "Saruman may have some reach this far north, but passing by his stronghold would likely mean death."

They reached a tall cliff face, and began taking a narrow path along the side of it. Toven frowned—they would have some trouble getting the pony this way.

"Gimli keeps talking about Moria," he said. "Is that not a viable path?"

"Not unless there was no other way," Aragorn said, his expression darkening briefly. "If we were to go south, we would know Saruman was lying in wait. But no one knows what would meet us in Moria."

A sinking feeling appeared in his stomach, even as they reached a wider section of the path. Quinn and Gimli had friends that had gone to reclaim Moria. But there was a worrying amount of uncertainty around their fates.

They weren't on this mission to find out what had happened to those lost dwarves. Their purpose was far bigger than that. But Toven still felt guilty at the thought of leaving them behind.

**I realized while writing it that they cut a lot of corners in the movie for timing sake, like the Crebain passing over them and then immediately turning around. But that makes it more fun for me because I can flesh out these sequences a little. You'll see what I mean a little later on.**

**I want to make it clear that I am pro-Boromir, I think he gets way too much hate tbh…so don't worry, I have big plans for this fella**

**This was mostly just filler/fluff/a little foreshadowing. Next chapter we'll get into some interesting stuff, which I'm excited about.**


	10. Icy Winds

**Chapter 10: Icy Winds**

"…So every year on Christmas, this guy would fly around in his sleigh with twelve reindeer and deliver presents to all the kids. Or all the Christian kids, I guess. And he allegedly kept a list of kids who were good or bad, and all the bad kids would get coal instead of presents."

Frodo raised an eyebrow at Quinn. "This was a legend in your world?"

They'd reached the upper part of the Pass of Caradhras, and walking through what felt like endless snow had caused Quinn to reminisce on some holidays from her old life.

"Oh, yeah. And most kids believe it's true until about ten or so. I found out the truth when I was pretty young because my friends and I got caught shoplifting by a mall Santa. He started cursing us out, so my friend Joey kicked him in the leg and he knocked over a rack of Christmas cards, and the dollar store owner came over and started wrestling him…that shattered the illusion pretty quickly."

Frodo laughed. "And what happened to you and your friends?"

"We all high-tailed it out of there. I think the only reason we didn't get into trouble is because the store owner was fighting Santa." She grinned. "Man, those were the days. What about you? You ever have a shoplifting phase?"

"Well…when I was young, Merry, Pippin, and I used to sneak into Farmer Maggot's garden and steal mushrooms."

"Wow. I would've expected that from Merry and Pippin, but I didn't know _you_ had a criminal past."

"Those days are long behind me now," Frodo said, though he still wore a slightly nostalgic smile.

Quinn grumbled slightly as her foot sank almost knee-high into a snowdrift. It wasn't snowing anymore, but the previous day had left a thick enough layer to be slightly unpredictable in places. "Well, it's never too late to start up again. Did I ever tell you about the crazy pony heist Nori and I pulled off in Dunland?"

"I don't believe you have."

"Oh, this is a good one. We were originally trying to convince this guy to—"

Frodo gasped, and she turned in time to see the snow slide out from under his feet and send him tumbling a little ways down the slope. He hit another drift and stopped.

"Oh shit, are you okay?" Quinn snorted. "Sorry, it's not funny. Seriously, are you okay?"

"Frodo!" Sam hurried past her and went to help him up.

"I'm all right." Frodo accepted Sam's hand and stood up. "I just lost my footing, there." He brushed some snow from his clothing. His hand moved against his collar, and he froze. "The Ring."

"Did you lose it, Mister Frodo?" Sam asked.

"Uh oh." Quinn started down the slope, searching the snow. "Maybe you should keep that thing in your pocket, or something."

The others, who had stopped after Frodo had slipped, went to join them. Soon they were all searching through the snow.

"Stupid Ring," Quinn kicked at a pile of snow. "I mean, if we just left it here and went home, how bad would that be?"

"I have it."

They all turned to Boromir. He straightened, holding the Ring by the chain that usually went around Frodo's neck.

"Boromir," Aragorn said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

"It is a strange fate," Boromir said, his eyes trained on the Ring, "that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing." His other hand drifted upwards, as if he was about to touch it. "Such a little thing."

_Oh, shit_. Quinn glanced at the others, who were all watching Boromir with various expressions of worry and fear. Aragorn's hand was on his sword, out of Boromir's view. _We're not supposed to be fighting over this thing. Worst case scenario, I punt it over the side of the mountain and we call it a day_.

"Boromir!" Aragorn said, more sharply this time. That finally seemed to shake Boromir out of whatever trance he'd been in, and he looked up. "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Frodo was watching the exchange with a tight jaw. His hands twitched at his sides, as though he didn't know what to do with them. Sam stood at his shoulder, fixing Boromir with a defensive glare.

"As you wish." Boromir descended the slope, the Ring outstretched before him. As soon as it was in reach, Frodo snatched it out of his grip and shoved it in his pocket. "I care not." He gave an awkward chuckle and reached out to ruffle Frodo's hair.

Sam's scowl deepened, and Quinn cringed slightly. She'd learned early on that touching a hobbit's hair like that was a big no-no.

Aragorn took his hand from his sword as Boromir turned and continued climbing the slope. Gradually, the others began moving as well.

_What the fuck was that?_

Quinn shook off the tension and waited for Frodo and Sam to catch up. "You okay? Maybe we should get you a pair of snow shoes."

"I'm fine," Frodo said, looking distracted.

"Hobbits don't wear shoes," Sam said. "Why would we need ones for the snow?"

"So your ass doesn't fall." Quinn reached over to help him over a slippery patch. "They're not really shoes. They look more like tennis rackets, to be honest. Or, uh…flat baskets, I guess. They keep your feet from sinking into the snow."

"Well, hopefully we won't need those. We'll be out of these mountains soon enough. Right, Mister Frodo?"

"I certainly hope so," Frodo said. After a while, he moved ahead to walk with the others, leaving the two of them in the rear.

"Hey, Sam, can I ask you a question?"

"All right. What is it?"

"Why do you call Frodo 'Mister?' Isn't he your friend?"

Sam nodded. "It's just a matter of respect. I'm his gardener, see, so it's only proper I refer to him that way. But we're still good friends."

"Okay." Quinn tilted her head. "So, like Batman and Alfred."

"Who?"

"Eh, never mind. Let's go catch up with the others." She turned to him. "On second thought, I could totally tell you some Batman stories once we set up camp."

* * *

Toven was beginning to realize he was not dressed for the weather.

Their second day in the pass, another snowstorm had descended upon them. It had continued for hours, and now they were struggling through snowdrifts up to their knees. Quinn was in front, carving a path through the snow, while the hobbits huddled together in the middle of the group, and Legolas brought up the rear to make sure no one was left behind.

Biting back a curse, Toven drew his cloak tighter around himself. The cold had seeped through his boots and his gloves, and the wind kept blowing his hood back. He was fairly sure he'd lost feeling in his ears.

Once, he'd briefly seen a group of Snowmen in Forochel. They'd looked strange, in their thick clothing made of fur and animal skin, but he suspected now that they would have been far more comfortable than him in this kind of weather.

"We must find shelter!" Boromir shouted over the wind. "Or this storm will bury us alive!"

Toven wasn't sure how they were going to do that. They were hugging the cliffside on the upper end of a snowy slope, but there hadn't been so much as a crack in the rock so far. The best they'd been able to do last night had been huddling against the cliff face and trying to avoid the wind. If there was a better place to take shelter, they wouldn't know until they were almost upon it—and with the sun setting, their luck would only get worse.

"We have to press on," Aragorn responded. "We are exposed to the wind, here."

"I've had enough of this!" Gimli dug his axe into the snow and began shoveling it away with the flat of the blade.

The rest of the group drifted towards him, watching the proceedings with various degrees of confusion.

"What, are we gonna dig our way to shelter?" Quinn asked. "I think that might take a while." But she stooped down to help away, scooping away snow with her hands.

Eventually, Gimli's axe struck something hard, and he exclaimed in triumph. He laid his axe down, took off his glove, and pressed one hand against the dark patch of stone beneath the snow. Toven grinned, finally catching on.

"What on earth is he doing?" Boromir asked.

"Dwarves have stone sense." Toven glanced at him. "He can see the shape of the mountain, including any openings. He might be able to find us a cave."

After a minute or so, Gimli straightened and shook some snow from his hand. He slipped his glove back on and turned downhill. "This way, lads!"

Toven caught a doubtful frown on Legolas's face, but eventually everyone began trailing after the dwarf. The winds grew stronger as they moved away from the cliff, and he winced as snow pelted the side of his face.

_Gimli_ _had better be right about this cave_.

They dropped down a steep slope and stopped in front of what appeared to be nothing more than a mound of snow. Gimli used his axe to brush some of it away, and Quinn stepped forward to help. After a few minutes, their efforts revealed a dark shape beneath—a narrow cave opening.

It was just wide enough for the pony to fit through. The cave was fairly narrow, around ten feet wide, and stretched backwards into the shadows. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as they stepped inside. It was cold, enough that their breath clouded the air, but they were out of the wind.

Toven took the bundle of wood from his pack and set it down. "I'm starting a fire. Any objections?"

"Let's check the rest of the cave first, see that it's clear." Aragorn took a piece of wood from his own pack and tied a cloth around it to make a torch. He and Legolas began walking towards the back of the cave.

Quinn flexed her hands with a wince. "_God_, it is fucking cold. I'm actually considering lighting myself on fire."

Toven knelt down and began arranging the wood. "You know, a cloak might help."

She leaned against the cave wall. "Yeah, but I lose them faster than I can get a new one. I don't have much use for them anyway, unless I want to make a dramatic Jedi entrance at some point." She rolled her shoulders and straightened up. "I'm gonna go check on the others. See if they got eaten by a bear or not."

Quinn headed towards the back of the cave. The hobbits were kneeling in a circle, taking stock of their food. Gimli was kicking the wall to knock the snow off his boots. Gandalf was standing at the entrance of the cave, watching the swirling blizzard. Toven wasn't sure what he was looking for, but at least he was blocking some of the wind.

"Here." Boromir stepped forward, handing him some of the dry brush they'd saved for kindling.

Toven grunted a thanks and began arranging it in his fire. "You had the right idea with this."

It had been Boromir's suggestion to bring wood with them up the pass. They'd avoided lighting fires to keep their whereabouts a secret, but he'd reasoned that stealth wouldn't mean much if they were all frozen to death.

Boromir slung his shield from his back and set it against the cave wall, then sat next to him. "Well, this isn't the first time a snowstorm has driven me into a cave."

"No?" Toven took out his flint. "I was under the impression Gondor enjoyed relatively gentle winters."

"I was up in the White Mountains. They bear snow year round."

Toven finally produced a spark, and the kindling began to smoke. He blew on it gently, and soon a small flame was flickering on the floor of the cave.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Quinn returned from the back of the cave.

"It's clear," Aragorn said. "The tunnel goes further, but it's been caved in."

"What about the floor?" Quinn tapped the stone with her boot. "I got jumped by goblins once with a trap cave floor."

"It's solid as far as I can tell," Gimli said. "If any goblins come to bother us, we can throw them into the storm. See how they like that!"

Toven sat down and held his hands over the fire with a sigh of relief. He glanced at Boromir. "So, why were you in the White Mountains?"

"I was on a hunting trip. But it turned into something else entirely before I left."

The hobbits joined them around the fire, while the others set about repairing equipment and getting ready for sleep. Quinn tossed him a packet of travel bread.

Toven settled back against the wall. The cave was growing warmer, and the exertions of the day were beginning to take their toll on him. "I sense a story coming."

"I was following a trail I'd used before. Just before night fell, I came upon an abandoned tent in the trees. It had been cut open from the inside, and—"

"This isn't a ghost story, is it?" Quinn interrupted, crossing her arms. "Because normally I love those, but we're kind of stuck in a creepy cave in the middle of a deadly snowstorm. If we're gonna be hearing about wendigos ripping people apart, I'd rather do it three piña coladas deep on a tropical island."

Sam turned to look at her. "Wendigos?"

"It's… You know what? I'll tell you once the weather gets above freezing."

"We should all get some rest, "Aragorn said. "If the weather permits, we'll reach the highest point of the pass tomorrow." He shot a brief, almost apprehensive glance at Boromir before turning away.

Clearly he hadn't forgotten the incident with the Ring. There hadn't been much to do about it, since they'd been more preoccupied with battling the snow, but Toven could feel a measure of tension creeping through the confined space of the cave. There wasn't supposed to be discord among their group, not with the enemies they were facing.

He shot a quick glance at Boromir, who was tending to the fire. He sincerely hoped Elrond had chosen well in appointing the members of their Fellowship.

* * *

Quinn brushed a layer of snow from her face with a growl. "I swear to god, I'm going to invest in some fucking windshield wipers."

They'd gotten about an hour of clear weather after leaving the cave the next morning before the skies opened up on them again. It had taken them half the day to reach the highest point of the pass, and now they were all struggling along a narrow path on the side of a cliff, fighting through waist-high snow.

She didn't want to admit it to the others, but she was starting to get a little worried. The snow that landed on her didn't melt, and every once in a while she would have to clear off her face and hands to keep herself from being partially buried. She had to keep moving constantly, or she was afraid she'd actually freeze and they'd have to carry her stiff body down the mountain.

She turned to Pippin, who was walking behind her. The distance between them had grown since the last time she'd checked. "You doing okay back there?"

"I'm all right," he replied, pulling his hood forward to cover more of his face. "My legs are a little tired."

"You want me to carry you for a little?" She squatted down and motioned for him to climb onto her back.

"Thanks." He wrapped his arms around her neck, and she took hold of his legs and stood up.

Quinn let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, that actually feels a lot better. You're like a really warm backpack."

"And you're ice cold!"

"Don't worry about me." She glanced back at him. "Is it uncomfortable?"

"Well, I doubt I could get any warmer at the moment…"

"Hey," Merry said from behind them. "Why does Pippin get to be carried?"

"Because I only have one back," Quinn said as she started walking again. "Unless you want to hold onto my front or something. Or you could ask one of the big strong men to help you out."

A cracking noise sounded from above. They all looked up in time to see several chunks of rock break off the side of the mountain and plummet towards the path, right where they were all standing.

"Oh, shit!" Quinn dropped Pippin from her back, and drew her sword. They'd had a glimpse of the sun for about fifteen minutes yesterday, and she'd saved up a charge on her sword just in case. She swung it in a vertical arc in line with the falling rocks, and several of them broke into smaller pieces. They all ducked against the cliffside as stone pelted the snow and tumbled off the path. "Jesus, what the hell was that? Are there stone giants in these mountains?"

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas called from the front. His footsteps were light enough that he could easily walk on the topmost layer of snow, which Quinn thought was kind of a rude flex in front of the rest of them.

She turned back to see Merry helping Pippin to his feet. "You good?" she asked. "Sorry about dropping you like that."

"Better than being crushed by falling rocks," Merry said as the two of them huddled together. "I-Is there some magic at work here?"

Quinn looked out into the open air and focused her hearing. It was barely audible over the howling wind, but she could hear snatches of a deep voice speaking an unknown language.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried.

"Well, I guess that explains that," she muttered. "That son of a bitch."

Gandalf raised his staff and began chanting in the same language. She guessed he was trying to fight against Saruman's magic, but the storm didn't seem to be getting any better.

The clouds darkened overhead, turning almost black. Another sharp _crack_ sounded as a lightning bolt struck the cliff above them. The whole mountain seemed to shake as a rumbling noise filled the air, and a white mass appeared above them.

"Oh, dicks," Quinn said just before an avalanche of snow crashed into them.

She tried to duck against the wall, but the force of the snow hit her like a river current, and she felt herself sliding towards the edge. She didn't have time to grab onto anything, or to look for the others, before she was tumbling through open air, surrounded by a shifting mass of white.

When she finally hit he ground, she immediately started rolling, fast enough that she wondered if she was going to turn into some kind of cartoon snowball. She couldn't tell which way was up, and by the time she registered the rock hurtling towards her head, it had already struck her, and everything went black.

**I don't know if anyone got the Tolkien nerd joke but I refuse to let it go unnoticed so I'm explaining it here. So Quinn compares Frodo and Sam to Batman and Alfred respectively. However, their relationship was inspired by Tolkien's WWI experiences, in which some officers would have a personal servant…which was known as a batman. So Sam is actually the Batman in this scenario!**

***silence from the audience***

**Anyway…**

**The story Boromir was going to tell is inspired by the Dyatlov Pass incident, which is super creepy and interesting and one of my favorite unsolved cases. Maybe I'll have him finish telling it at some point.**


	11. Ice Veiled Mountain

**Chapter 11: Ice Veiled Mountain**

Quinn couldn't move.

She was completely buried in the snow, curled in a partial fetal position, and she wasn't really sure which way was up. She couldn't move her limbs more than an inch, and even that small motion caused an excruciating pain to shoot through her body.

She'd probably been unconscious long enough to literally get frozen. And if she was buried, the others wouldn't be able to find her—if they were even still alive.

No. The others were fine. They had to be. In fact, they were probably _more_ fine than her, and she could definitely use some help digging herself out of this snow.

Quinn forced her jaw open, and let out a groan as pain shot through the lower half of her face, worse than any cavity she'd ever gotten in her old life. She could almost hear her old dentist saying, _This is what happens when you don't floss_.

She stretched and moved her jaw until she had a good range of motion with it, and blinked a few times for good measure. Now she could see the grayish layer of snow spread over her face, and hopefully call for help.

"Okay." Quinn winced. Her face was sore, but at least she could move it. "Uh, is anyone else out there?"

Maybe the others had been buried in the snow, or the fall from the cliff had—

She cut the rest of that thought off. With everything that was at stake, their Fellowship wasn't going to get taken out by a fucking avalanche. She'd get the rest of her body moving and dig them out one by one if she had to.

She decided to start with her right arm. That way, she'd be able to draw her sword and possibly use it to signal the others. She tried flexing her fingers, and hissed through her teeth.

"Ah, motherfucking _shit_. Come on, you stupid fucking fingers." She raised her voice. "If anyone wants to come dig me out—!"

Slowly, she was able to get some more motion in her fingers, and clenched her right hand into a fist. _Okay. On to the elbow_.

"Stupid fucking wizard thinks he can drop a fucking snowstorm on us…See how he likes it when I Batista Bomb him off his own fucking tower." Something took hold of her foot, and she paused. "Hey! Who's grabbing my foot?"

"It's me," Aragorn said, his voice slightly muffled by the snow.

He took hold of her ankle and pulled her out of the snowdrift. The motion was enough to straighten out her right leg, and she clenched her jaw as pain shot from her toes to her hip. She blinked against the bright white light.

Aragorn was kneeling at her side, and Boromir, Sam, and Frodo were standing nearby.

"Hey, guys," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Thank god you found me. Thought I was gonna be stuck in there."

Boromir stepped forward with a frown. "What's wrong? Can you not move?"

"Uh, no. I think I'm actually frozen."

The four of them stared at her.

"Like in the movie Frozen," Quinn added, mostly to fill the awkward silence.

"How are you still alive?" Boromir asked, sounding slightly horrified.

"Well, I'm not." Quinn glanced around at the others. By now, she was sure everyone knew _something_ was up with her, but only Frodo knew the full truth about her situation. "I'm kinda dead. It's a long story. But the point is, I'm frozen stiff right now, and I'd _really_ like to get moving again."

Frodo stepped forward and knelt down next to Aragorn. "Perhaps we could light a fire. Would that help thaw you out?"

"Sounds like a good start," she said. She was starting to wish they could just skip to the active volcano part of the quest.

Aragorn took some wood from his pack and started fashioning a torch. "Let's make this quick. We need to get moving."

"So you really are a Wraith Knight," Boromir said.

"Uh…sure? I mean, I feel like the word 'wraith' has some baggage to it, and I'm not really a knight either." She let out a sigh of relief as Aragorn held the now lit torch close to her arm. "Oh, god, that feels so much better. Get my joints first."

Frodo moved to her other side and held her left hand in between both of his. "Does this help?"

"A little. Thanks, man." She gave him a small smile. He and Sam were both shivering, but she appreciated him trying to share what little warmth he had. "By the way, where are the others?" She tried to lift her head to look around, but her neck was still frozen.

"We couldn't find them," Boromir said. "They must have been buried in the snow."

"_What?_" Quinn tried to sit up, and failed. Aragorn had finished with her right arm, and she rolled her shoulder with a wince. "What do you mean, they were buried in the snow?"

"We don't know what happened to them," Aragorn said. "The avalanche carried us far from the path we were on. They may have been swept off to another part of the mountain."

"Shit." Quinn propped herself up on one elbow and tried to get some feeling back into her torso. Toven was out there, and so were Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf… "How the hell are we gonna find them?"

"We need to find the pass again," Aragorn said. "Let's head west, try and make it to that ridge over there." He pointed to the crest of rock, which was nearly invisible among the swirling white snow.

Quinn was finally able to bend her left leg, and pushed herself to her feet with a grunt. She was definitely going to be sore for a while, but at least she could move. "Okay. Let's go."

Aragorn extinguished the torch in the snow and held her back as Boromir, Sam, and Frodo moved ahead. "We need to turn back and make it off this mountain."

She frowned at him. "Well, yeah, but we're gonna look for the others, right?"

He glanced at the retreating backs of the hobbits. "We need to get Frodo and Sam to safety. They won't last much longer up here."

"Are you kidding me? With their hobbit body fat?" At Aragorn's unimpressed look, she spread her hands. "We can't just leave the rest of them up here."

Aragorn stepped closer. "We came on this journey to protect Frodo, at risk to our own lives. We have to make sure he survives this."

Quinn looked away. If it came down to it, could she choose between her promise to protect Frodo and looking for Toven?

Maybe if she'd listened to Belekur and taken out Saruman, none of this would have happened.

She sighed and brushed a layer of snow from her face. "Let's just try and find the pass first."

Aragorn held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, and the two of them went to catch up with the others.

* * *

Toven shut his eyes and waited for his head to stop spinning. He didn't know if he'd blacked out, or how long it had been since the avalanche had carried them off the cliff. His body was encased in snow, and he couldn't stop shivering.

"Fuck." He shifted, trying to clear a space for himself, and winced as some snow fell onto his face. Well, at least he knew which way was up.

His body felt bruised, but it didn't seem anything was broken, so he braced a hand against the wall of snow above him. It was hard, and tightly packed, but he felt a slight give as he pushed harder.

There wasn't much room to maneuver, but he kept scraping and pushing, hoping the snow would become less dense, and that he wasn't too deeply buried. His breaths were coming faster, and strange patterns spiraled through the snow above him.

_I'm running out of air_.

Toven grit his teeth and shoved his shoulder upwards, trying to break through the snow. It lifted slightly, but settled back down a second later.

"Come on." Trying to keep his breathing slow and even, he dug his fist through the snow, pushing as far upwards as he could.

Someone grabbed his hand, and he gasped as he was pulled the rest of the way out of the snow. He stumbled and braced his hands on his knees, gulping in the frigid air. He didn't think he'd ever be so glad to feel the freezing wind.

"Are you all right?" Legolas asked, helping to steady him.

"Well, I'm alive." Toven pushed a few strands of hair from his face and looked around. They were standing in the middle of a snow-covered slope, and the sky above them was dark and clouded. "Where is everyone else?"

"I was only able to find one other. Come." Legolas started up the slope, his footsteps light and quick.

"Don't let me slow you down," Toven muttered, trudging after him.

At the top of the incline was a rocky overhang, which had been covered in snow on one side to make a small cave of sorts. Toven ducked inside and squatted down. Legolas was waiting for him next to Merry, who was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest.

Merry turned to Legolas with a frown. "Is that all?"

"Good to see you too," Toven said, settling down on the cold stone.

"Sorry." Merry looked back and forth between the two of them. "I mean, you didn't find anyone else? Not Pippin, or…or Frodo and Sam?"

Legolas shook his head. "The snow was silent, as far as I could tell. Perhaps they were swept off somewhere else."

Toven suddenly felt sick. He'd been able to dig himself out, but what if the others hadn't been so lucky? How were they supposed to search this whole mountain for their lost friends?

And Quinn…she wasn't good with the cold. It wouldn't kill her, but it would be enough to leave her trapped.

"I found a tunnel while I was looking around," Legolas said, bringing him back to the present. "Perhaps it will lead us back to the pass."

"I suppose we don't have another choice," Merry said, pushing himself to his feet.

They emerged from the small shelter, and Toven winced as a biting wind swept across the slope. He wanted badly to stop and rest, and preferably light another fire, but they needed to get moving if they wanted to find the others. If they were still alive, they didn't have much time left.

"It's not far," Legolas said, and started leading them south.

"I hope he doesn't leave us behind," Merry said lowly as the elf moved easily over the snow.

Toven glanced at him. The snow was up to his knees, but for a hobbit it was closer to waist height. "Just walk behind me. I'll try and clear a path."

They forged on. Toven's muscles were already sore from the past two days of trudging through snow, and exhaustion was beginning to slow him down. Legolas remained ahead, but he never strayed out of sight, stopping to wait whenever they lagged too far behind.

Toven's foot caught a hard-packed bit of snow, and he stumbled. He managed to catch himself with a curse, and straightened up.

"Are you all right?" Merry asked from behind him.

"I'm fine." He sighed. "I'll be glad when we're off this mountain. I just wish we had some warmer weather to greet us at the bottom."

"Are there any villages around where we could stop?"

Toven turned away so Merry couldn't see his smile. "No, there are no villages. Our best luck with finding a roof over our heads would probably be turning back to Rivendell."

"That's a shame. I wouldn't mind a nice tavern, a pint of ale and a fire to warm my toes…"

He closed his eyes, indulging in the image for a brief moment. "I wouldn't mind that either. I would kill for a hot spring."

"What is that?"

"Naturally heated pools. They have some in Erebor." He turned around to look at Merry. "Imagine a bathtub, big enough to fit twenty dwarves, filled with hot water."

"That does sound nice." Merry wrapped his cloak around him. "Though I think I'll pass on the twenty dwarves."

Toven snorted a laugh and turned back around. He'd been young when he'd left Erebor, so most of his memories were mere images, snatches of sound and smells, but all of it left a fondness in his heart. He meant to go back someday, and hopefully he would get the chance after this was all over.

Legolas was waiting for them near the cliff face, by a small opening in the snow. "Through here," he said, and ducked into the opening.

Toven followed him through, and his eyes widened as he looked around. The tunnel wasn't made of stone or snow, but ice. The walls shone a glistening blue, and he reached out to feel the smooth surface.

Then he cursed as his foot slipped and he nearly lost his balance.

"Careful," he said, righting himself. "The floor's slippery."

"I can see that," Merry said, moving farther into the tunnel.

Legolas, of course, was walking ahead with no trouble. Toven suppressed a grumble and moved on. At least they were out of the wind for now.

The ice walls took on a rippling shape, as though they'd been frozen mid-current. A few icicles hung from the ceiling. Toven could see bits of rock suspended in a particularly clear section of the ice.

"Does that look like a fish to you?" Merry pointed to a dark shape deeper in the ice that did, indeed, look like a fish.

Toven wiped away a layer of frost to try and get a better look. "How does a fish end up frozen at the top of a mountain?"

"That sounds like one of the riddles Bilbo used to tell."

He shrugged and kept walking. "Legolas, do you know if this tunnel leads somewhere? Because—"

Merry grabbed his wrist. "Did you see that?"

"What?"

"There was something moving in the ice!"

Toven looked at him, then at the wall he was staring at, then back at him. "Are you playing a trick on me?"

"No! I saw something move, there." He pointed to the section of clear ice.

Legolas walked towards them, his bow at the ready. "What did you see?"

"I-I don't know. I only caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye." Merry half-glared at both of them, as though daring them to disagree.

Toven frowned at the ice for a moment longer. "It was probably just a trick of the light. Let's keep going."

"I can feel the air moving up ahead," Legolas said. "We must be getting close to the exit."

They continued on without any further issue, though Toven found his eyes darting to either wall, searching for a hint of movement. This mountain had already tried to kill them multiple times, and with Saruman's influence at hand, he didn't think it was quite done with them yet.

They emerged from the tunnel onto another snowy slope. The landscape still looked unfamiliar.

"Any idea where we should go next?" Toven asked, moving a little ways down the slope. "I don't recognize this place."

"Look out!" Merry cried.

He turned to the left. Something was moving towards them at a great speed, sending up a wave of snow with its movement. Toven didn't even have time to draw his sword before it was upon them. Something solid slammed into his chest, sending him flying backwards. He hit the ground and rolled to a stop.

"What the hell…" Spitting out a chunk of snow, Toven looked up. A rapidly growing ball of ice was forming right above him. "Oh, shit."

He rolled away just before the ice slammed down with enough force to send up a spray of snow. It lifted up and moved above him again.

An arrow pierced the ice, causing it to shatter. Toven scrambled away as shards of ice fell around him. He pushed himself to his feet and drew his sword.

_Great. Now the snow's attacking us_.

Legolas nocked another arrow in his bow, scanning the slope. Merry had moved closer to him, his own small sword drawn.

A spire of white erupted from the ground, a vortex of snow swirling around it. Toven took several steps back as the snow beneath his feet began to slide towards it.

Legolas fired another arrow into the column, but the wind simply redirected it, and it spun away down the slope. The vortex began to expand, and Toven moved farther back.

_That thing is going to swallow us whole_. He'd never seen anything like this before, but he'd heard tales of restless spirits wandering the lands north of the East Road. Perhaps this was something similar.

Quinn had rambled a lot about monsters, both real and imaginary, and something she'd said came back to him now: _They always have a weak point. It's probably going to be an eye or some kind of glowy spot, but if you hit it a bunch of times with your sword, it'll probably die._

Well, it wasn't as if they had anything else to go on. Toven kept his sword up and scanned the vortex. At the center of the snowy spire was a faint glow. If they were able to reach that, maybe they would be able to beat this thing.

He jogged up the slope and reached Legolas. "We need to hit this thing in its heart." He pointed. "Where the light is coming from."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Legolas had another arrow nocked, and was scanning the vortex as if searching for an opening.

The winds were still expanding, and were nearly upon them. Toven's eyes fell upon the column of white.

"The center looks solid enough." He tightened his grip on his sword. "I'll see if I can break it apart."

Legolas turned to him, his blond hair whipped by the wind. "You can't go in there."

"Well, shout if you have a better idea," Toven said, and leapt forward.

Merry shouted something at him, but it was snatched away by the howling winds. They immediately shoved him to the side, and Toven braced one hand against the ground as he fell. Snow slashed at his exposed skin.

With a growl, he pushed himself up, digging his boots into the snow, and began fighting his way towards the center. The wind pushed at him and tore at his clothing, and the whirling ice stung, but he stayed low and crept forward.

The white column was nearly within reach. The wind was strong here, whirling around him with such force that he could hardly move. Toven shut his eyes against the stinging snow, raised his sword, and let a gust of wind carry the force of his strike.

The blade passed clean through the column of ice, which began to crumble. The winds began to die down, and Toven let out a sigh of relief—he hadn't even realized that he'd been holding his breath.

He stepped back, his cheeks stinging. "Did that do it?"

The crumbled pile of ice and snow began to rise again, the glow within pulsating brightly.

"Of course not." Toven raised his sword again.

"Toven, get down!" Merry shouted.

He dropped into a crouch, and turned in time to see Merry hurl a lit torch right into the center of the ice. The flame glowed orange for a split second, illuminating the mass of snow, and then the pile collapsed. A shriek sounded, swiftly carried away by the wind, and a shadow darted from the mass and disappeared down the slope.

Toven brought his boot down on the pile of snow, crushing and spreading it until he was sure it wouldn't rise again.

"The shadow is gone," Legolas said, joining him. "Whatever that was, I don't think it will attack us again."

"Let's hope not." Toven turned to Merry, who was walking towards them. "You have incredible aim, you know that?"

He smiled. "Perhaps it was just a lucky shot."

"Are you injured?" Legolas asked.

"A little sore from when that thing first hit me." Toven rubbed his side with a wince. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he was starting to feel it. "I'm just about ready to get off this damn mountain."

"Agreed. Let's try the path over there." Legolas pointed with his bow, and began leading the way down the slope. Toven and Merry exchanged a weary glance, and began trudging after him.

* * *

"The pass is close. We should be able to reach it in another hour."

Quinn finished helping Frodo to the top of the ridge and turned to see what Aragorn was talking about. Sure enough, she could see a section of the pass that they'd traversed earlier. All that lay between them and the pass was a large, bowl-shaped indent in between the two ridges.

She turned to the hobbits. "You two okay? Do you need to stop and rest?"

"I think I can keep going," Sam said. He turned to the other. "How about you, Mister Frodo?"

"I'm all right for now," Frodo said, giving him a small smile.

Quinn let them go in front of her as Aragorn and Boromir led the way down the ridge. The two hobbits had always been tight, pretty much ever since she'd known Frodo, and part of her was glad that they'd ended up together after the avalanche. They both seemed a little more assured when the other was around.

They reached the bottom of the ridge and continued across the flat stretch of snow. The drifts were shallower here, reaching only halfway up her shins. Quinn looked up at the gray, shifting clouds with a frown. The weather seemed to have calmed down a little, but she wasn't ready to let her guard down. Maybe Saruman thought he'd killed them with that avalanche, but how had he known where they were in the first place?

She wasn't sure what Plan B was once they managed to get off the mountain, but the Gap of Rohan still seemed to be an option. It would definitely make their lives easier if they could take Saruman out on the way.

Maybe she'd ask Boromir about it, since that was closer to his home territory. She looked up at where he was walking ahead, and her eyes fell to the shield on his back.

"Hey, Boromir," she said. "You ever use that thing for shield surfing?"

He glanced back at her. "What?"

"Your shield." She pointed. "It's the perfect shape and size for shield surfing."

He blinked. "I don't know what that is."

"Maybe I'll show you sometime." Quinn smiled, but Boromir only turned around and kept walking.

Out of all the members of their Fellowship, Boromir was the only one she'd never met before, and it was clear he still didn't know what to make of her. She shrugged. She'd get him to crack eventually.

"Are you talking about sledding?" Frodo asked, falling into step beside her.

"It's a similar concept. But with shield surfing, you wanna try and stand up the whole time."

"We used to go sledding in the winter back home," Sam said. He gazed up at the mountain peak looming above them. "Those hills seem rather small, now."

"Oh, yeah, I bet you could get some wicked speed on some of these slopes." She grinned. "Once I went shield surfing in the Blue Mountains, and—"

Something cracked beneath her feet.

Quinn looked down. "…The hell?" She brushed some snow aside with her boot. Underneath was a layer of ice, which now had a few cracks running through it. "Hey, there's ice down here."

The others stopped and turned towards her.

"Quinn," Aragorn said. "Stay where you are. Frodo, Sam, move away from there. Slowly."

Quinn looked around and realized this whole area was unusually flat, and looking more bowl-shaped by the minute.

They'd stumbled onto a frozen lake.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked, turning to Aragorn.

She looked down at the ice again. _Shit_. If she fell in, that was probably going to be it for her.

"Spread out, and move slowly," Aragorn said. "We need to make it to the other side."

The authority in his voice was enough to shake her out of her panic. Quinn straightened and watched the others slowly back away from her. Gingerly, she took a step forward. She placed her weight on her other foot with a wince. The ice cracked again.

She looked up. The others were making their way to the other side, but Aragorn had stayed behind, and was beckoning to her.

Quinn took another shuffling step. Her hands were starting to shake. "Hey, promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"If I fall in, you better not jump in after me."

"You're not going to fall in. Just keep moving."

It was slow, painful progress across the ice. Quinn froze every time she heard even the slightest crack, though most of it seemed to be just the top layer shifting beneath her weight. Aragorn stayed a little ways ahead, encouraging her to keep moving every time she stopped.

They were nearly at the opposite bank, only a ten-foot stretch of ice between them and the others, when a loud splintering noise made them all tense up. Her stomach filling with dread, Quinn looked down, but the ice beneath her feet was intact. She looked over at Aragorn, who was staring at the spiderweb of cracks beneath his boots.

"Oh, shit." Quinn started towards him, but Aragorn held out a hand.

"Stop! Don't come any closer."

"Dude, that's _bad_. You're gonna fall in."

"You'll make it worse if you come this way." He gestured to the others with his chin. "Make for the bank."

"Fuck." Reluctantly, Quinn continued inching her way to the other side. She reached the edge without any problems, then turned back to Aragorn.

"We have to help him," Frodo said, watching the Ranger with wide eyes.

Sam was digging through his pack. After a moment, he pulled out a length of rope. "We can use this!"

"Here. Give it to me." Boromir took the rope, coiled it up, and tossed one end to Aragorn.

Aragorn caught the rope, and Quinn took hold of the other end, along with Boromir.

"You're almost there," she said. "You fall in, we'll yoink you right back out."

"We're going to what?" Boromir asked.

"Pull, genius." Quinn turned to Aragorn. "You ready?"

Aragorn had wrapped the rope around one hand a couple times. He took a step forward, and the ice beneath his feet shattered.

Quinn and Boromir yanked on the rope, pulling him out of the water and across the ice. He slid the remaining few feet to the bank and came to a halt in the snow.

"Holy shit, dude." Quinn pulled him to his feet. "That was close. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Aragorn said, rolling his shoulder with a wince. His boots were wet, but the rest of him looked fine. "Let's keep moving."

They turned and began climbing up the ridge. They were out of danger for now, but Quinn still felt slightly on edge. She reached the top of the incline and spread her hands.

"Anything else wanna fuck with us today?"

"Don't say that," Sam said, brushing some snow from his trousers with a scowl. "Our luck's rotten enough as is."

"It may have just taken a turn for the better." Frodo put a hand on Sam's shoulder and pointed. "Look!"

From here, they could see the path, and coming down one end were Toven, Legolas and Merry.

"Oh, thank god." Quinn let out a relieved laugh. She scooped up a snowball and hurled it in their direction.

The snow landed a few feet away from them, and all three immediately went for their weapons.

"Geez, I wonder what has them so jumpy." She started climbing down the slope and went to join her friends.

* * *

It wasn't long after their two groups reunited that Gandalf, Gimli, and Pippin came down the path, the latter holding the reins of their pony. Toven was relieved to see that everyone had survived, and doubly eager to leave this mountain behind for good.

Quinn slung an arm around his shoulders. "I still can't believe you guys got to fight a snow monster."

Toven glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry you missed out on the privilege of nearly being crushed to death by a ball of ice."

"Well, it was probably more exciting than almost getting dunked in a frozen lake." She released him and turned to get a better look at his face. "You're a little scratched up."

"I'm so cold I can barely feel it." He shrugged. "I'm fine."

Quinn opened her mouth to respond, but he shushed her as the others began discussing what to do next.

"We have to get off this mountain," Boromir said, arms crossed. "We can still make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West Road to my city."

Aragorn shook his head. "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard. That way will be even more dangerous than this one."

Gimli inserted himself between the two men and pounded the handle of his axe into the snow. "If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

Toven frowned. That was rapidly becoming their only option. Aragorn had dismissed that route earlier because they didn't know what was waiting for them there. But they knew with greater certainty that the Pass of Caradhras and the Gap of Rohan would lead to their deaths.

Everyone turned to Gandalf, who had remained silent, his gray robe and hat flecked with snow. He lifted his gaze and surveyed them all with stormy eyes. "Let the Ring-bearer decide."

And everyone shifted their gaze to Frodo. He looked at them with wide eyes, then turned to Sam, and some unspoken conversation passed between them.

It didn't seem fair to Toven, to place that decision on someone who had never even left the Shire before now. In a way, this was Frodo's mission, but that didn't mean he had to be burdened with the hard choices along with everything else.

"Frodo?" Gandalf prompted.

After another moment of deliberation, Frodo straightened and said, "We will go through the mines."

"So be it," Gandalf said lowly.

"Well, that sounds ominous," Quinn muttered as they began making their way down the path.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," Toven said. "But maybe they'll lose our trail when we pass through."

"Hey, I can think of a bright side to all of this."

He glanced at her. "What's that?"

She smirked. "It doesn't snow underground."

Toven laughed at that, and they went to catch up with the others.

**Some of the stuff in this chapter was inspired by a DND campaign I'm running. My party just got out of a sequence in the snowy mountains after being separated by an avalanche, and I was like "hmm that's a pretty good plot point" so here it is. But yeah, this chapter was pretty fun to write, and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: The Silent Lake**

Finding an abandoned dwarf kingdom was just as hard as one would imagine.

At least Erebor and its solitary bulk, Toven thought, would have been hard to miss. But here, any one of the peaks of the Misty Mountains could be home to Moria. Gandalf had mentioned something about a stream, but so far they hadn't found so much as a puddle.

They were still weary from their battle with Caradhras, and it seemed to Toven that the sun was taking its sweet time traveling toward the horizon.

He wasn't even having the worst of it. Toven glanced back at Merry and Pippin, who had been straggling at the back of the group for a while now. He paused and waited for them to catch up.

"How are you two holding up?" he asked as he fell into step beside them.

"Been better," Merry said, and Pippin wearily nodded his agreement. The most recent leg of their journey had taken the cheer out of both of them, though Quinn usually managed to get them to perk up. At the moment, she was near the front of the line, talking to Aragorn and Gimli.

"If I'm being honest," Pippin said, "I was rather hoping we'd turn back after that avalanche."

"You mean go back to Rivendell?" Toven asked, and Pippin nodded.

He sighed and turned back around. He'd had his doubts when he'd heard that the two hobbits meant to accompany Frodo on the quest. But this was hardly the moment for an, "I told you so."

"I know it's been hard these past few days," Toven said. "And you're both brave to press on with us."

"Do you think we have any hope of making it?" Pippin asked. "I didn't think it would be so difficult so early on."

"I don't measure things in hope. I don't want to depend on some outside force to see this task done. _We're_ the ones who will have to see it through, and the only way we can do that is by pushing forward."

Merry shielded his eyes so he could look up at the looming peaks of the mountains. "It seems we've been doing a lot of pushing lately."

"That we have." Toven let out a small sigh. "I remember the first time I went hunting. I must have been about thirteen."

"Thirteen?" Pippin's eyes widened. "That's quite young to go hunting."

"Humans age differently, Pip," Merry said.

Toven nodded. "I was young, but I was with four other experienced Rangers. There was a terrible storm the first night, and I got separated from the others. At first I was determined, excited even, and I wanted to see what I could catch by myself. I managed a couple of fish first, built a fire to cook them…but that second night, I heard wolves howling."

"What did you do?" Pippin asked.

"I ran." He let out a short laugh. "I was an idiot. I completely exhausted myself trying to get away from them. I snapped my bow falling down a hill in the dark. I was convinced they were going to smell the blood from my scratches, and all I had was my knife, so I broke off a tree branch and fashioned a spear out of it. I waited, and eventually one of the wolves found me. I thrust my spear at it, and the thing immediately broke in half."

"How did you manage to fight it off?" Merry asked.

"I didn't. The other Rangers found me and chased off the wolf, then brought me back to camp. They all had a good laugh at my expense." He lowered his gaze, old bitterness flickering in his chest. Back then, he'd been so obsessed with the idea that he had something to prove.

"That must have been terrifying," Merry said.

"It was. That night felt like a fucking eternity. But I survived it, and I've survived more dangerous things since then." He glanced at them. "I don't know if you're able to take any encouragement from that, but…"

"I hope we don't run into any wolves," Pippin said, sticking his hands into his pockets.

Toven snorted a laugh. "If we do, you have several experienced warriors to protect you. And a few, uh, Gondorian drills under your belt."

Both hobbits chuckled at that.

At the front of the group, Gimli called out to the rest of them. They made their way to the top of the hill where he was standing.

Just beyond was an empty stream bed, filled with red and brown stone and the barest trickle of water, and to one side were the aged remains of a path.

"This is the Sirannon," Gandalf said. "The stream will lead us to the gates of Moria."

"Not much of a stream, is it?" Sam muttered as they descended the hill to follow the path.

Toven frowned at the dry rock. He'd never known a mountain stream to dry up like that before. "Perhaps they dammed it at its source."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Legolas murmured.

Toven glanced at him, unsure if he'd been the only one to hear the elf's comment. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Legolas regarded him coolly. "Dwarves have little regard for the ways of nature. Even a dwarf himself would admit as much."

"Yes, but you meant something else by it." Toven held his gaze.

"Isn't there some sort of feud between elves and dwarves?" Merry asked as he and Pippin inserted themselves between them two of them. "What's that all about?"

"Perhaps you should explain it to them," Toven said to Legolas. "Since you seem to have some opinions on the matter."

Legolas's eyes narrowed a fraction. "I have seen in my lifetime that dwarves are uncaring of nature, and that their ever-growing desire for wealth often leads to their own demise."

Toven's jaw twitched, but he held back his anger. "And I suppose your people have never once benefitted from the riches you scorn the dwarves for producing."

"I've met a dwarf before," Pippin offered. "Thorin seems like a very nice fellow."

"We are about to enter a dwarf kingdom," Toven said, keeping his eyes on Legolas. "And it may still be their domain. I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself."

With that, he shifted his pack on his shoulders and walked forward to join the front of the group.

* * *

It took them the rest of the day to reach the base of the mountains. A trickle of water ran from the top of what had probably been a large waterfall. Gimli pointed out a set of stairs that would lead them to the top, and they began climbing.

Quinn reached the top and stopped short. A few feet in front of her was a small lake, its surface smooth and dark.

"At least this one's not frozen," she said, stepping aside to make room for the others.

"There's a path round this way," Gimli said, leading them along a narrow strip of rock around the lake and to the cliff face on the other side. He was full of what could have been excitement or nervousness—Quinn couldn't really tell which. They hadn't really discussed what they might find inside Moria.

It was the dark by the time they reached the other side of the lake. The water was dark and still, though Quinn caught a couple of ripples that could have been fish.

She turned back to the cliff face, which looked like nothing more than a wall of rock. "So, how do we get in?"

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gimli said, tapping the rock with his axe.

"Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten," Gandalf said.

Toven appeared at her shoulder. "I thought Erebor had a hidden door. Wasn't that how Thorin entered during the quest?"

Quinn shrugged. "I was dying from poison that day, so I missed all of that."

Gandalf seemed to have found something in the rock, and he reached out to touch it. "Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight." He glanced at Quinn. "It's made of a similar metal to your blade."

"Huh." She tapped the hilt of her sword.

The moon came out from behind the clouds, shedding silvery light onto the wall. A glowing pattern appeared in the shape of a doorway, with two trees on either side and a row of text above.

"That's incredible," Toven breathed.

Gandalf raised his staff to the glowing writing. "It reads, _The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter._"

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.

"Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, then you speak the password, and the doors will open." He pointed his staff at the door. "_Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!"_

They waited for about thirty seconds, but the doors stayed shut.

Gandalf raised his hands. "_Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!"_

They waited in silence again.

"Nothing's happening," Pippin pointed out.

Gandalf stepped forward and tested the doors with his hands. "I once knew every spell in all the tongues of elves, men, and orcs…"

"What are you going to do, then?"

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions," Gandalf took a calming breath, "I will try to find the opening words."

He went back to muttering Elvish at the doors, and Pippin turned away, looking slightly dejected. The others spread out to find a comfortable place to wait.

Quinn walked up to Gandalf and cracked her knuckles. "So, is there a character limit on this thing?"

He paused but didn't turn towards her.

"I'm no hacker or anything, but you could try 'password.' Or '12345678.'"

Gandalf sighed. "The longer you expend your efforts trying to help me, the longer it will take for us to get inside."

"But—"

He took his staff and pushed her away from the door.

"Dick." Quinn brushed herself off and went to go find Merry and Pippin.

They were sitting by the edge of the water. She took a seat next to them, wincing as a couple stones poked her in the ass.

"I don't think Gandalf likes me very much," Pippin said.

"Oh, join the club." She held out her fist, and he bumped it with his own. "Don't worry about it. He just gets grouchy sometimes."

Pippin smiled at that. "Thanks, Quinn."

Nearby, Aragorn and Sam finished taking the rest of their belongings from the pony, and Quinn watched it trot back the way they'd come.

Merry was taking inventory of the stones on the bank. "None of these are the right shape for skipping."

"That's okay. My friends and I used to play this game with regular rocks, where we tried to see who could make the biggest splash. Once I dislocated my shoulder trying to throw a chunk of concrete into the water."

"And how are we supposed to know who wins?" Merry asked.

"Let's find out." She picked up a rock about the size of her palm, and Merry and Pippin followed suit. All three of them chucked their rocks into the water. "That's a point for me."

"Is not!" Merry said. "Who made you the judge, anyway?"

"And you're bigger than us," Pippin said.

Quinn held her hands up. "I mean, if you guys want to call it quits now, then I guess I win…"

"I don't think so." Pippin lifted another rock and cocked his arm back, but Aragorn caught his wrist.

"Do not disturb the water."

Quinn paused in picking up her own stone and looked back at him. He wasn't really the wet blanket type, unless there was a risk of danger. "What's going on?"

"There is something lurking in the water." He pointed to a spot farther out on the lake, where the water was gently rippling.

"Well, you know how much I hate things that lurk." Quinn tossed her stone back onto the bank. She wasn't sure if it was an alligator or what, but she hoped Gandalf would be able to get them inside before it decided to make one of them its dinner.

"I wonder if he's ever going to get that door open." Merry leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. "_Speak friend and enter_. That's not much to go on, is it?"

Quinn leaned back on her elbows and snickered. "Wouldn't it be funny if the password was just 'friend?'''

Merry perked up and turned to Gandalf. "What's the dwarvish word for friend?"

"_Bâha_," Gandalf said, but the doors didn't budge.

"What about elvish?" Frodo asked.

"_Mellon_."

The stone let out a cracking noise, and the doors swung outwards.

Quinn's mouth fell open, and she turned and slapped both palms against Merry's. "You're a genius!" She leapt up and high-fived Frodo too. "And you're a genius!"

The rest of the group stood, and they all filed through the door. It was completely dark inside, the moonlight only shining a few feet through the door. The air was musty, as though it had been trapped there for a long time, and there was something else that smelled almost rotten.

Gandalf lit the top of his staff, creating a small aura of light in the room. They'd ended up in an entrance hall, and the vague outline of a set of stairs were visible up ahead.

Quinn felt something crunch beneath her boot. "What the…" She looked down.

There was a skeleton under her feet, dressed in the rusty remains of a mail shirt and a bent helmet.

"Oh, _fuck_." She stumbled back, nearly bumping into Boromir.

Gandalf turned, letting his staff illuminate the room further, and she realized there were skeletons littered all about the room, some of them pierced with arrows.

Legolas snatched up one of the arrows and inspected it. "Goblins."

Gimli staggered further into the room, surveying the carnage. "Bastards!"

Letting out a stream of curses, Quinn moved to a corpse-free section of the floor. These dwarves had been dead for a _long_ time. Did that mean her friends—

"We should never have come here," Boromir said, putting a hand on his sword.

They began backing away, searching the darkness for any attackers.

Frodo cried out from the back of the group, and Quinn turned to see the other three hobbits running after him, towards the bank. Something was pulling him into the water.

"Get off him!" Sam drew his sword and hacked at whatever the thing was, while Merry and Pippin took Frodo's arms and pulled him away from the lake.

Quinn ran towards them, and looked down at the severed piece of a tentacle lying on the rocks. "You've got to be kidding me…"

Several more tentacles burst from the water and pushed Sam, Merry, and Pippin away. One of them struck Quinn in the chest, throwing her backwards against the door. Frodo screamed as another tentacle dragged him into the air.

Quinn pushed herself to her feet and rushed into the water, along with Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli. She held her sword aloft, charging it with moonlight, and swung it downward. A beam of light arced out, severing two tentacles.

Another appendage slammed into her, knocking her onto her back. A slimy weight settled over her chest, keeping her trapped beneath the water.

_Jokes on you, you fucking Cthulhu knock-off_. _I can't drown_. Quinn drew back her sword and stabbed it through the side of the tentacle. She pushed her blade to the side as the tentacle retracted, cutting the rest of it in half lengthwise.

She pushed herself up, spitting out a mouthful of slimy lake water. Boromir and Aragorn were in the center of the writhing mass of tentacles, fighting towards where Frodo was still dangling.

A larger shape had emerged from the water—the body of the monster. It was partially submerged, but Quinn could see a large jaw lined with hooked teeth.

"Oh, hell no." She ran forwards, leaping onto a tentacle and using its momentum to push herself upwards. She raised her sword midair and brought it down in a powerful blow. A curved beam of light flashed through the air, cutting off four tentacles and leaving a steaming line where it made contact with the water.

Frodo fell from the air as the tentacle holding him was severed, and Boromir caught him.

"Into the mines!" Aragorn shouted. "Go!"

The others ran for the doorway. Legolas fired two arrows into the body of the monster, and it let out a guttural roar.

Quinn took a couple steps back and twirled her sword, charging it up with another ray of light. "You wanna fucking go?" She sliced off another tentacle as it lunged towards her.

"Quinn!" Toven shouted. "Come on!"

"A little busy here!"

The monster's body was growing closer. If she could get past the tentacles, she'd have a good chance of stabbing the monster through its brain.

She spun, cutting off another tentacle, then staggered as someone took hold of the back of her breastplate. She glanced behind her to see Toven hauling her towards the doorway.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Saving your life!" he snapped.

The monster was looming above them now, its tentacles attaching to the stone around the doorway. Quinn turned around, grabbing Toven's arm, and the two of them sprinted the rest of the way into the cave.

Several chunks of stone fell under the monster's grip, completely blocking the doorway. They stumbled back, over bone and rubble, as the entrance hall fell into total darkness.

**Credit to the Dwarrow Scholar for the Khuzdul.**

**adkfdghsdjf my pro-dwarf sentiments might be shining through a little here. Not trying to paint Legolas as a racist or anything, but he does have some prejudices he'll end up questioning later in the story. And the same goes for Gimli.**

**In the book, Merry was the one to help out with the riddle on the door, but Frodo did it in the movie, so I gave them both credit. And a little credit goes to Quinn, for the single stroke of genius she will have in this story.**


	13. The Whisper of the Shadows

**Chapter 13: The Whisper of the Shadows**

They were only in the dark for a moment before the light from Gandalf's staff illuminated the cavern once more. Toven squinted at the entrance, but it was completely blocked off by fallen rubble.

Quinn turned to him and spread her hands. "What was that, back there?"

He frowned at her. "That thing was about to kill you."

It had been a new kind of terror that had ensnared him when he'd seen her surrounded by those tentacles, ready to entangle her and pull her into the beast's mouth. He still wasn't sure how he'd gotten them both out of that in time.

Quinn put her hands on her hips. "I mean, I was about to kill it first."

He let out an exasperated sigh and turned away. This wasn't the place to lose his temper. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"We now have but one choice," Gandalf said as the Fellowship drew nearer to him, like moths to a flame. "We must face the long dark of Moria." He started walking up the stairs. "Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world."

_Just what we need—more monstrosities to attack us_. Scowling, Toven followed the others up the stairs. Quinn trailed behind him silently. He didn't turn back to her. It wasn't supposed to be his responsibility to look out for her.

"Careful, now," Gandalf said as they skirted a pile of skeletons. "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

Toven walked in silence while his temper cooled. Eventually, thoughts of the lake monster were replaced by more immediate worries about the bodies littered across the entrance hall.

Only their bones were left, which meant whoever had tried to take or defend this place had failed a long time ago. Any hope he'd once had for the expedition from Erebor was only a sliver, now.

He looked over at Gimli, who was walking silently near the front of the group.

"Gimli," he said, falling into step next to him. "_Zûr astu?_"

A smile lifted his bushy beard briefly. Water droplets still clung to the wiry hairs, and his boots squelched wetly as he walked. "I'm doing all right, lad."

He was considerate enough to reply in Westron—Toven's Khuzdul had grown rusty since he'd left Erebor, having no one to practice with.

"This place doesn't look anything like Erebor," Toven said, looking around as they passed through a rough-carven tunnel and into a larger cavern. All of it looked naturally made, nothing like the neat geometry and shining green stone of his childhood home.

"Oh, make no mistake, laddie." Gimli nudged him with the side of his axe. "Moria is the greatest kingdom in all of history. These passages here are merely roads to the West Gate—or what's left of it, now. It is on the eastern side that we will see the true majesty of Khazad-dûm."

Toven smiled. For the moment, it was easier to think of this place as merely abandoned. "I look forward to it."

"And if we reach the other side, we shall have the privilege of seeing Kheled-zâram and Durin's Stone."

His heart lightened a little, despite the gloom around them. That had been one of his favorite stories as a child—how Durin had looked down upon the lake in Azanulbizar vale and seen the reflection of seven stars, shining above his head like a crown. He'd always dreamed of gazing into that lake himself, and perhaps this would be his only chance to do it.

"We'll pass through easy enough, lad." Gimli patted him on the back, as high as he could reach. "Don't let it get your beard all in a twist."

_If I had one_. Toven touched his bare chin. He had been the one hoping to give some sort of reassurance to Gimli, but perhaps reassuring another had been exactly what the dwarf needed.

About an hour later, they stopped to eat and get some rest. They lit no fire, and Gandalf extinguished the glow from his staff once they all settled down.

Toven shouldn't have been bothered. He'd grown up sleeping in total darkness. But there was something about this place that unnerved him. The slightest scrape or sigh had him tensing up, and eventually he gave up trying to sleep and sat up.

He couldn't see a thing in the dark, and it took him a lot of shuffling and feeling the cave walls to make his way to the tunnel leading out of the small cavern where they'd stopped to rest. He gazed into the blackness and focused his hearing, searching for the slightest sound.

"You will have to get accustomed to the dark before we reach the other end."

Toven jumped, putting a hand over his heart, but he recognized the voice as Gandalf's. He guessed the wizard had stayed up to keep watch.

He watched as Gandalf conjured a small flame, seemingly from nowhere, and used it to light his pipe. Then all he could see was a small oval of burning embers, though the appearance of the flame had left a small, white imprint on his vision.

"It's not just the dark," Toven said lowly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "You said there would be older and fouler things than orcs lurking down here. What sort of things did you mean?"

Gandalf was silent for a long moment, and Toven frowned. Quinn had told him that the wizard rarely gave a straight answer to anything.

"Do you know what first drove the dwarves out of Khazad-dûm?" Gandalf asked.

"Durin's Bane." A chill ran down his spine. That had been one of his least favorite stories as a child. There were countless tragedies woven through the history of the dwarves, and the fall of Moria was a dark shadow in their memories. "You think it's still down here."

"No one has seen it in over a thousand years. If we are to pass through here quietly and cleverly, we may make it to the other side unnoticed."

"That's not what I asked." Toven sighed. "Do you have any idea what this thing is?"

"It is an ancient being with power far beyond any that we possess. Our only hope of survival is to pass without entering its notice."

"Sounds promising," he muttered. He pushed himself off the wall. "I suppose I should try and get some sleep, then."

"That you should," Gandalf replied.

Whatever the wizard held against Quinn, Toven still wasn't sure if that extended to him or not, as her son. But he wasn't sure he had room in his head to worry about something else, so he crept back to his bedroll and watched the darkness until his eyes finally drooped shut.

* * *

During their second day of travel, they finally reached the end of the rocky tunnels and came to a wider area. Thankfully, they'd stopped seeing as many skeletons too, which only served as a reminder to Quinn that her friends were probably dead.

She tried not to think about it as they walked into a tall cavern. This was more typical of a dwarvish cavern, with both the floor and ceiling stretching into darkness.

There were strings of unlit lanterns hanging down the walls, as well as other rickety wooden contraptions. Quinn had spent enough time in Erebor to know where they were.

"_So we back in the mine_," she started, but Gimli cut her off.

"Not that blasted song again! Do you have to sing that every time you're underground?"

"Sorry." She shrugged. "Being here just puts me in the mood."

"I'm beginning to think that's…what's the word you use? Racist?"

She snorted. "I'm pretty sure it's not, but point taken. I'll stop."

They passed along a narrow ledge on the side of the cavern, and the people in front of her began to slow, looking at something on the wall. Quinn squinted at the rock beside her, and could see veins of what looked like silver running through the stone.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels, but in mithril," Gandalf said from the front of the line. He extended his staff to illuminate the lower part of the cavern, and they all leaned over to look as a brilliant glow emanated from below.

The light bounced off a network of gleaming silver, turning it into a shimmer of white like the reflection of the sun on a flowing river.

"Damn," Quinn said under her breath. Between this stuff and the Arkenstone, she was pretty sure dwarves were way ahead of the game with shiny things.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him," Gandalf added.

Gimli let out a nostalgic sigh. "Oh, that was a kingly gift."

"Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

"Wow," Quinn said. "Get someone who will give you a whole country as a gift." She turned to Frodo, who was walking behind her. "And how long did it take for them to get together after that?"

"Several years, if I remember correctly," Frodo said with a smile. "Bilbo likes to tell that story often."

"You know, I helped out a little with that back and forth. So in a way, you have me to thank for you existing."

Frodo rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Quinn, they're not my actual parents."

"Oh, right." Quinn turned around and nearly ran into Legolas. She looked over his shoulder, and realized the group had stopped.

"There's a gap in the path," Merry said.

"What do we do?" Pippin asked. "Should we turn back?"

"No," Gandalf said. "I am quite sure that this is the only cavern that is not blocked off, and we do not have the time to go searching for another path. And this gap is not a large one."

"Here." Toven took one of the ladders leaning against the wall. "We can use this to cross."

"Perhaps that'll work for you light-footed folk," Gimli muttered.

Legolas sidled to the front of the line and leapt across the gap. "It's not so far." He beckoned to the rest of them. "Come."

"Oh, yeah, if Legolas can do it, then it should be no problem for the rest of us," Quinn said.

Legolas shot her a look.

The ladder creaked slightly as Toven crossed. Once he was on solid ground, he turned to the rest of them and shrugged. "It seems like it'll hold."

Gimli harrumphed. "As if I'd doubt the craftsmanship of my own kin." He walked across the ladder, which creaked even more violently, but still held.

Gandalf followed him, leaving Merry next in line. He hesitated, peering down at the dark gap below. Aragorn stepped forward and guided him across, then did the same for Frodo and Sam.

Quinn was next, and she couldn't help the tingle that went through the soles of her feet as she looked down into the darkness. She stepped onto the ladder, and winced as it groaned under her weight.

"Do it quickly," Toven said. "The more time you spend hesitating, the more likely it is that you'll fall."

_Okay. Think Assassin's Creed_. Quinn held her arms out for balance, prayed she wasn't going to trip, and crossed the gap.

That left Boromir and Pippin on the other side. The latter was lingering near the back, employing the classic hobbit technique of trying to look as small as possible.

"Come." Boromir beckoned to him, taking on more of a fatherly tone. "The gap isn't as wide as it seems."

"I think I'll just stay here for now," Pippin said, forced cheer in his voice. "Don't really fancy falling to my death, you know."

Gandalf muttered something under his breath. Quinn began looking around for something more solid than a ladder that they could use.

"I'll carry you," Boromir said. "We leave no man behind. Or hobbit."

Pippin looked up at the group waiting on the other side. Quinn shot him an encouraging thumbs up. He shuffled his feet for a moment, then said, "All right, then."

Boromir scooped him up under one arm and started across the ladder. Something cracked, and Quinn's gaze dropped to the makeshift bridge, but it appeared intact.

"Get back!"

Someone grabbed the back of her breastplate and pulled her away from the edge. The rest of the group scrambled away as a section of the rock began to crumble and slide away, taking the ladder with it. Boromir tossed Pippin up and into Aragorn's waiting arms.

Quinn dropped to her stomach and just barely managed to snag Boromir's arm as he fell. She caught his full weight, and cried out as pain shot through her shoulder.

"Jesus _fuck_!"

Boromir grabbed onto her arm with his free hand, his boots scraping against the rock, and Quinn clenched her jaw. It felt like her arm had been pulled out of its socket. She tried to bend her elbow and get him closer to the edge, but stopped as white sparks crackled in her vision.

Legolas appeared at her side and took Boromir's other hand, pulling him onto the ledge. As soon as she could let go, Quinn sat up with a wince.

Toven knelt down beside her. "Are you all right?"

"Think I dislocated my shoulder." She poked at the area. "That's my sword arm, too."

"Here." He took hold of her elbow, put his other hand against her shoulder, and gave a sharp push.

Quinn hissed through her teeth, feeling the bone pop back into place. "Thanks." She gingerly tested the joint, then looked up at Boromir. He seemed shaken, but uninjured. "Man, I am so glad I didn't drop you."

He nodded, breathing hard. "You have…incredible pain tolerance."

"And you're heavy." She accepted Toven's hand as he helped her up.

"We should not tarry here." Gandalf waved his staff, motioning for them to move on. "We must make our way back to more solid ground."

"Yeah." Quinn glanced back at the jagged gap in the rock. "Looks like this mountain is trying to kill us, too."

* * *

Moria was beginning to remind Toven of the things he did _not_ miss about Erebor.

At the moment, stairs were at the forefront of his mind. They were currently scaling a particularly steep set, having to use their hands at some parts to climb more easily. Even with the boundless energy he'd had as a child, Toven remembered being exhausted running up and down the tall flights that connected the levels in Erebor. He wasn't sure how anyone, never mind people of dwarvish size, had used these on a day to day basis.

After two days of travel, they'd finally reached signs of civilization. They'd passed several buildings carved out of stone, all of their windows dark and empty, and a few skeletons were littered across their path for good measure. The sight had put Toven in a dark mood.

He was glad to reach the top of the stair, where they stopped to catch their breath. Before them were three identical doorways.

Gandalf stood in front, illuminating each passage with his staff. "I have no memory of this place."

Quinn stepped up next to him, looking lively as ever. Her shoulder had healed overnight, and she'd almost kept pace with Legolas up the stairs. "You need help again? I think my sense of direction has been getting better lately."

Toven swore he saw the wizard's eye twitch.

None of them were optimistic about a swift decision on Gandalf's part, given the amount of time it had taken at the gate, so they all settled down to wait. Toven sat facing the stair, staring out into the darkness.

There was something unnerving about this place, and he was glad he wasn't traveling alone. There was no wind, no chattering animals or moving water to break the silence. All of this, the stone and the darkness, felt…dead. He wondered if Thorin's Company had felt something similar when they'd first entered Erebor.

Frodo and Sam were sitting next to him, talking quietly amongst themselves, when Frodo stopped short.

"There's something down there."

Toven turned to him. "What?"

"I saw something crawling around down there," Frodo said lowly, though his voice was taut with sudden fear.

Scanning the gloom, Toven laid a hand on his sword. A goblin scout would be manageable. But he wasn't eager to encounter something that _crawled_. "You have better eyes than me, Frodo. I don't see anything."

"I'm going to tell Gandalf." Frodo climbed up the rock ledge behind him and walked over to where the wizard was sitting in front of the three doorways.

Toven sighed, keeping his hand on his weapon. Whatever the thing was, at least they would have the advantage of the high ground if it attacked.

"I'm not too fond of this place, if I'm being honest," Sam said. "What with the paths that fall out from beneath your feet and the constant dark…" He gestured to the stair. "And the things crawling about."

Toven grunted his agreement. "At least we don't have to go another round with the lake monster."

This didn't seem to help Sam's mood much, and he sighed. "Poor old Bill. I wonder where he is right now."

"Who's Bill?"

"The pony," Sam said, as if this was obvious. He'd been much more attached to the animal than the rest of them. "Aragorn said he'd be able to find his way home, but it's hardly been an easy road from Bree to here."

"I think our enemy is far more concerned with us than a pony." Of course, that wasn't accounting for wolves or the other perils of the wild, but Toven elected not to mention that. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"I sure hope so. Cold as it is out there." He sighed again. "I never much liked this time of year, anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Well, for the end of the year, you've got Yule to look forward to. But after that, it's nothing but wind and snow until spring comes 'round."

Once, when he was younger, he'd spent Yule in Bag End with Frodo and his friends. It had been similar to the winter holidays in Erebor, but with more food and less drinking. Looking back, it impressed him how hobbits could bring comfort to even the dreariest season.

"I suppose I shouldn't be complaining about the weather," Sam said. "Not to a ranger, anyway."

Toven chuckled. "Is that how you see us, then? Hunkered down in the rain and fog, living off the land and feeling generally miserable?"

Even in the dim light, he could see Sam's cheeks redden. "Well, perhaps not so…"

He shrugged. "I've done my fair share of trudging through the wilderness. Aragorn certainly likes to act like that's the only thing he's done his whole life."

Sam leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, when we first met him, he was sitting in the corner with hood up, all brooding and mysterious. I'd never seen anything like it."

Toven stifled his laughter with his fist. He'd met up with the group shortly after they'd left Bree, and he'd been more than surprised to see Aragorn with four hobbits in tow. "That does sound like him."

"Do you miss it at all?" Sam asked, his tone growing more serious. "Being back home?"

He paused. The camp that he supposed he would call home was comfortable and familiar, but he didn't feel any particular nostalgia for it. "I miss my friends. I miss knowing what to expect." He lowered his gaze. "But I suppose I've been meaning to travel the world for a while."

"Aye, I've always wanted to see what was outside the Shire." Sam leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Elves in particular. Can't say I care so much for caves or mountains, though."

"Ah," Gandalf said, and they all turned to look at him. "It's that way." He gestured to the doorway on the right.

Merry straightened with a smile. "He's remembered!"

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here." Gandalf walked towards the doorway. "If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

"Well, that's that," Sam said, accepting Toven's hand and pulling himself to his feet.

"Just one more day, if Gandalf's estimate is correct." Toven adjusted the straps of his pack. "Let's get out of these mountains, hm?"

**Credit to the Dwarrow Scholar for the Khuzdul.**

**The song Quinn starts to sing is that Minecraft parody song, I forget the name and it's probably better for my dignity that it stays that way.**

**The end of this chapter is like that "images that precede unfortunate events" loll. Things are gonna get more intense next chapter, but I had a blast writing it, so I hope you'll enjoy it!**


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